The Name Game
by Secret Spy Guy
Summary: “Just pick a name, Jake.” My mom would say. “Pick any name you want.” At first I never knew why. When I was young they told me it was just a game. My parents never stopped to explain. We were running...we HAD to play that game... Future Fic
1. Catching up

**Spy Guy: someone slap me for this. heheh...yeahs. I know I shoudln't be posting this, but I'm going to be writing it anyway. This story came from my oneshots, so if I can't figure out how to delete the chapter right away, don't report me, kay? Heheh...**

**This story is what I write when I have writer's block, and because I like it, I'm going to post what I have done. I don't write in it very frequently, but when I have enough for another chapter, I'll post it, okay? **

**I just feel like posting today, and...Some people I've talked to really want more...hehe...slap me now. D: **

**Told from the POV of Danny's son...Jake...**

**Blanket Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom.**

* * *

My parents always called it the name game.

"Just pick a name, Jake." My mom would say. "Pick any name you want."

At first I never knew why. When I was young they told me it was a game. We would all sit in our small little blue car, throwing names around, and having fun. No one else I knew played that game. It set me apart from everyone, and made me special.

My parents never stopped to explain, never asked me if I _wanted_ to play. I knew it almost instinctively.

We _had_ to play that game.

Eventually, I realized it wasn't a game. We were running. From what, I could never figure out. And I didn't really care. My parents obviously believed that it was for the best.

And for fourteen years of my life, I never felt threatened by anything…

Until the day the world turned upside down.

* * *

Brown leaves rolled across the concrete sidewalk, crunching under my feet as I passed, reminding me of summer's end. I would always remember this day for as long as I lived. I was walking with an unusual spring in my step, a giddy smile plastered across my face. In my hand, I clutched a note, signed from the one girl I loved more than anything else.

Life was great.

Every so often, cars lazily passed me by, sometimes with people I knew waving from the windows. I smiled and waved back to them.

Life was very good.

I was walking down the middle class strip of town, where all the houses looked the same. Same dull brown paint, same perfect green yards, same cars parked in the same garages. I couldn't stand to live like that. My dad always told me that conformity killed people.

I wasn't sure if he was right, but it sure made people boring. A sluggish man in his forty's glared at me from his stoop as he clutched a pile of mail in his hands

I didn't wave to him.

Once more I read the note, my smile growing as her faint perfume reached my nose. It was the scent of an angel…she smelled just like roses.

And she was _my_ angel.

I rounded the corner, almost instantly stepping into a whole new world.

The perfect houses were gone, leaving me in my own familiar territory. People passed me on the streets, smiling slightly, going off into their smaller homes. These places were exciting to look at. Normal houses were settled comfortably beside various apartment complexes. Very few homes had yards and they didn't really need them. Across the street was a park where a few kids were currently playing basketball.

I kept walking.

Soon I had gone past the barbershop, the ice cream shop (closed due to health violations) and a small clothing shop. It was at this point I heard tires moving slowly over the loose asphalt on the road.

I looked back, seeing a large van parked against the curb, its motor still running. I shrugged it off, and continued on my way…

Until I heard the sound again…

This time my head shot around, spotting the van inching closer to me. Thousands of gruesome news bulletins flashed through my mind as I stared dumbly at that van. The driver was a bald man, his beady black eyes glaring at me through the windshield.

My heart started racing at that moment.

He was following me.

In an instant, my shoes were slapping across the pavement, churning up dust and leaves as I went. I didn't look back. I refused to look back.

I didn't have to… I could hear the van's engine rev up as its tires sped over the road.

There were no alleyways for me to duck into, no stores that I could hide in for refuge. I just happened to be in a strip of unsold houses. Their doors were locked and their windows covered in plywood.

Running was all I could do.

The cold air burned in my throat, and my muscles protested against this sudden exertion, but I pushed them forward. I knew I was just delaying the inevitable. I couldn't possibly outrun a van.

But I wasn't just going to give up.

Rubber screeched against the side of the pavement as the driver forced the van closer to me. His black eyes fell upon my face for a moment before he turned back to the road.

For one split second…I actually thought he was going to drive past me. I hoped that he would. I so hoped that he would.

Then that door opened.

I hadn't been paying attention to the van's sliding door directly to my right. My ears heard it swish open and then click firmly in place. Crouched inside were three men, their wild eyes focused on me. Their hands shot out, long bony fingers reaching for my hair and clothes. One man with deep brown skin, who looked hauntingly familiar, grabbed onto the sides of my shirt right below my armpits. I kicked out at him, missing every time. He attempted to lift me into the van, but I bit his arm…hard. His hand struck me hard against my skull, and I felt my neck pop slightly, but still I struggled against his hold. Another man seized my black hair, and dragged me painfully onto the van's dirt covered floor. I was nearly growling at them, hissing and spitting like a wild animal as they tried to keep me down. A man roughly forced my arms behind my back, tying my wrists and hands together with a thick rope, having no regards for the limitations of muscle and bone. I lay there on my stomach, completely helpless, watching forlornly as the van's door shut with a click…and I was trapped.

The familiar man forced me into a sitting position, propping my body up against the van's wall.

"What's going on?!" I demanded, glaring at him. People always said my green eyes scared them, but I was never sure why. I could feel the man's apprehension as he quickly bound my ankles together, completely immobilizing me.

"Stay quiet kid." The driver snapped. "We're not going to hurt you."

"And like, I'm supposed to believe you?" I snarled.

"Right now, you don't have a choice…"

Those words still echo through my mind, even to this day.

He was right.

I _didn't_ have a choice.

I fell to silence, closing my eyes, and letting the gentle rocking of the van lull me into a light doze. I know now that it was a very stupid thing to do, but at the time, I couldn't help it. It was like, I _had_ to go to sleep. I should have been looking through the window, tracking where we were going…

But I didn't.

I sat there like a good little boy in the back of that van for three days.

The first day they allowed me to go the bathroom once, at night, with them standing nearby. I didn't try to run then…

They had guns.

After that, they forced me back into that van, tied me up again, and kept going. I went along with the whole thing, too afraid to do anything. And for some reason…I was very tired.

Mostly the men just sat around, playing poker, and drinking. The van stunk of alcohol from their breath. It made me feel nauseous.

When they fed me, they usually shoved a stale granola bar into my mouth. The familiar man would be laughing, gagging me with the food that I so desperately needed. Despite the indignity of it, I had no choice but to bite down, and swallow what was already in my mouth before I threw up. Pieces rolled down my chin, landing on my dirtied t-shirt, but I ignored it as I scarfed the granola down.

The men would burst into raucous laughter, pointing at me, mumbling incoherently, before laughing again. My face would be red hot from embarrassment.

This went on for three days.

But at the end of those three days…I would wish I was still in that van.

* * *

It was on the fourth day that the men started getting agitated. They tightened my bonds, and made sure I was fed and watered. They brushed the crumbs and dirt from my shirt, and attempted to clean my dirty face.

"What's going on!?" I demanded, pulling against the ropes around my wrists, trying to get circulation to my fingers. The men just grumbled, and moved to the back of the van. They were looking through papers, carefully sorting them into different piles. One man had a stack of manila folders, and was placing various papers inside, writing on the covers with a strong smelling sharpie. The fumes gave me a splitting headache, but I was too nervous to dwell on it.

I could see that man setting the folders aside…and I could see what was written on them.

My names.

I know that sounds strange. Most people only have three names. Their first, their middle, and their last. Some even only have two. Some have four. I had dozens. A slew of various first, middle, and last names that came together to make me. I didn't use them all at one time. I've been Charles Johnson, Mark Hammerstien, Billy Fortune, Tony Samson and whole list of other people. My family made an invisible trail across the country, playing what my dad called the name game. We'd change our names whenever my dad told us we had to move. And we moved a lot. Each if us received new social security numbers, birth certificates, and other forms of identification from my dad's anonymous benefactor. I learned quickly that the only people who could know my real name were my parents. They were the only people who ever knew I was Jacob Fenton…

Or so I thought.

I watched as my most current name was placed on that pile.

Right now I was Nick Stephens.

After that, I was silent. These people knew things they shouldn't. My dad never told me why we were running, but he put great emphasis on staying hidden. He never held big jobs, and neither did my mom. Running was my life. It was all I had ever done.

And it was over now.

The driver turned back to me, smiling darkly as his fingers turned the van's key, killing the engine. I knew instantly the journey was over.

We had arrived.

I panicked as the side door slid open, letting a column of light shine through. Standing before me were four men in white suits. They all glared critically at me from behind dark tinted sunglasses, studying my features. Finally one spoke.

"He looks like his old man."

"It wasn't a hard catch." The familiar man said, climbing from the van. "Daddy dearest left a trail of clues a mile long. Apparently, he's been employed by some rich guy to do a few small jobs. Nothing real fancy, but they made his signature strong enough to track. The kid's was a little modified, and the strain obviously wasn't as strong as his dad's, but we still got him."

"Look at those eyes." Another one of the white suits murmured. "They're not human."

Listening to them talk was torture. I knew they were talking about me, treating me like I was the catch of the day. For reasons I didn't know then, they wanted me. And I was scared.

One of the white suits barked out a command to his comrades. They approached me, hoisting my tired body from the van and holding onto me tight, taking me out into the light. We seemed to be in a large storage room filled with various boxes. The van was parked right in the middle, a little ways away from a huge bay door.

"He looks a little weak." One man commented, walking towards me. Later, I discovered he was the head of the western branch of the guys in white…the cruelest man alive

"Get him registered with the system." The leader demanded. "Then take him to his room and feed him. He's going to need a lot of energy for tomorrow."

* * *

I had never really liked the color white. When we were running, white was the color of the cop cars my dad tried to avoid. White was the color of doctor's offices that I had to go to when I was sick. White was also the color of the school psychiatrist's left eye. My entire family preferred the color black. To me, this place was blinding. The men were in white suits carrying me down a pristine white hallway, through a shining metal door, and into yet another white room.

"What's going on?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice strong. Those three words kept pounding on the inside of my skull, demanding to be answered.

"What's going on?"

The door shut behind me with a sick whooshing sound, trapping me with these huge men and a room full of strange machines. They set me down on what looked like a metal operating table, leaving me there for a moment. The smell of antiseptic hit my nose like a wave, leaving me dizzy and confused. All I could do was lay there, and wait for the men to return.

My dad and I loved watching sci-fi movies. He liked all the really old ones like _Forbidden Planet_, and _the Day the Earth stood still_. He said he didn't like watching things that looked real.

If he knew these people, I could tell why.

One white suit came over with a small switchblade knife held firmly in his fist. I instantly tried to move away from him. I hated knives. I really hated knives. One time when I was ten, this kid from school went after me with a knife. I still have the scar, even to this very day, running along my cheekbone. The kid claimed that my eyes scared him.

A little like _The Tell Tale Heart_, isn't it? Except I didn't let him kill me, gouge my eyes out, and bury me beneath his house.

I managed to escape that time.

I inched away from the man and his knife, only succeeding in pushing myself off the table and onto the hard tile floor.

"Ow…" I murmured under my breath, trying to sit up.

"Stupid kid." The white suit grumbled, bending down beside me.

"What are you doing?" I whimpered, pushing myself closer to the table. My cheek was plastered against the cold floor giving me chills up and down my spine. My breathing came in short gasps as the shining tip of that metal blade came closer and closer to me, ready to cut me open like a fish.

"Why won't you answer me?" I demanded, trying to be brave. "What did I do?"

I was still ignored.

At that moment I closed my eyes, trying not to cry. Crying showed weakness, and I couldn't do that. I knew instinctively that I couldn't be weak to these people. I knew they would hurt me.

My panic about the knife was in vain though. The man simply cut the ropes with a small 'snik' ,freeing my arms and legs.

It was still painful. My hands and feet felt like thousands of little knives were digging into their tender surfaces. I stared long and hard at my discolored fingers, moving them slowly, trying to get the blood flowing again. For a few moments, those men left me alone on the cold floor. I could feel their eyes watching me as I stretched tense muscles and worked out cramps. It seemed like they were analyzing my movements, studying my behavior. At the time, I didn't think there was anything strange about how I stretched. My dad had taught me after a race we had out in the woods. He told me to imagine that my fingers could pass straight through my skin, and then massage the sore muscle inside. It was amazing, and worked very well.

"Talk to me kid." One man said when I was done. "What's your name?"

"Nick Stephens." I replied, looking away. They let me be for a little while longer, rifling through files and cabinets. I tried to ignore them. Soon the pain in my limbs subsided, leaving me with a horrible feeling in my stomach.

"Register him under Jacob Fenton." One of the men said to his comrade sitting in front of a computer screen. The man grunted as his fingers moved gracefully over the keyboard, typing my name in. My_ real_ name. Not one that I had made up in a game. This was the real name on my _real_ birth certificate, and the real name my parents gave me. These people had chased me down and kidnapped me because of who I was.

But I didn't know why.

It was then that I decided that I was going to run. I was going to get over to that door, open it, a make a break to the outside world. I was good at running. Before it became too much trouble, I was always high ranking in the track team. I knew these people were the reason I had to run all my life.

And I wasn't going to be caught.

I waited a few moments in silence, watching the men as they busied themselves with the stacks of files my kidnappers had given them. A copy of every birth certificate I had ever had was being placed beside the man at the computer. The white suits crowded around him, whispering softly as they looked over various documents.

Now was the time.

In a split second, my muscles tensed and uncoiled, propelling my body toward the door. Before the men could even register what happened, my fingers found the button to open the door, and my hand had slammed down upon it. They were screaming behind me as I tore blindly through the hall, my feet pounding against the tiled floor.

They were shrieking my name at the top of their lungs, threatening me with every torture imaginable. I didn't care. Running was all I had ever been good at. There was no way they could catch me.

But as my shoes squeaked across the floor, something shot out at me, striking me hard in the side. The pain ripped through me, shredding my senses as it went, reducing me to a small huddling mass on the floor. The smell of burning cloth and flesh reached my nose, making my eyes water from the acrid smell. A whimper escaped my lips as my body began to twitch from the shock. Thousands of cluttered thoughts were running through my mind at that moment, tripping over each other, hoping to be heard. Only one seemed to be registering at that moment.

They shot me.

They really shot me.

Even in my half-dazed state, I could tell that they shot me. The men were yelling all over, screaming at each other, their loud voices cutting into my numb mind like knives.

I felt warm fingers reach up to my neck, checking my pulse. My own fingers encircled the man's wrist, holding on with my feeble grip.

"Help me…" I rasped, struggling to speak through my pain. It was then that black crept over my vision, placing a wall between me and reality…

But I knew they had me again.

This was a second time I'd been caught.

Maybe I wasn't as good at running as I thought.

* * *


	2. Dr Tearle

spy: chapter 2. :D enjoy

* * *

I don't know how long it took me to come to. All I know was that I felt like a huge lead weight had been placed on my side. The entire area was numb, wrapped in white bandages over my bare skin. One of my arms hung painfully over the side of the bad, fastened to a metal headboard with a pair of strange glowing handcuffs.

They burned my skin a little.

I found myself in the GIW infirmary, lying on a white hospital bed, wearing only my jeans. Around my free wrist was a thick plastic band that had my name, a bar code, and an unbelievably long strain of numbers. It was like those new things they stick on cattle to track where they are.

I knew then that I was done running.

A woman with a pale drawn face hovered over me, silently popping a thermometer into my mouth. Automatically, I slipped it underneath my tongue, watching her intently,

"Which file's the most recent?" The nurse asked a white suit standing by.

"Nicolas Stephenson." Was the man's clipped reply, his head turning to stare at my face.

"Taking his temperature is useless." He continued gruffly. "He's got halfa blood. His old man's temperature ranged at five to twenty degrees below normal. We need to study him more to understand his range."

It was like they had forgotten I could understand English as they blathered on about studying my vitals, how to take my blood, how often to take said blood, what medicine I should be put on, what my diet should be like, along with a list of various other things that I had no hope of understanding. I let the nurse take the thermometer from my mouth, happy to be able to swallow properly again. She jotted something down in yet another manila folder, before turning back to me.

"There doesn't appear to be any sign of infection." She murmured, as if to herself. "Should be fine soon. Halfa's heal fast."

Then that was it. She turned away, busying herself with a box of off color gauze, leaving me to deal with my pain alone.

I had never been brave or strong. I had always been taught to run away when things got dangerous or uncomfortable. But now was not a time for running. Now was a time for action. I was going to ask them all the questions that had been wandering about in my mind in an attempt to figure out what was going on. I _needed_ to know what was going on. It was my right as a person. As a human being.

So I asked them.

Same question all over again. Something in me didn't expect an answer this time either, at least not a satisfactory one. That entire place seemed set up to trick me. It was really annoying.

"We're taking care of you kid." The white suit growled. "Be grateful that we didn't leave you there."

"Then I'd be dead." I spat. "And this whole thing would have been pointless for you."

My eyes locked onto his, never faltering. I could feel his apprehension toward me, thick in the air like smoke.

"Shut up, brat." The man snarled.

"No." I replied firmly. "I know there's a reason you guys kidnapped me. I can't just be some random kid you people decided to take off the street."

The man turned to me, his own eyes boring into my own, with much less conviction.

"What makes you think that?" He demanded.

I could see the nurse cautiously looking at us from the corner of her eye, still pretending to be fascinated with the gauze. But I had to focus on the man before me. I had to answer him.

"You knew my real name." I hissed. "You guys knew who I was. It's your fault I've been dragged through almost every stretch of this country."

"It's not _our_ fault." The man replied, a wicked sneer rolling across his lips. "It's your dad's for being irresponsible."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" I snarled, making an attempt to get up. It felt like I was ripping apart my side, tearing the skin all over again. I groaned in pain, falling back onto the thin mattress, breathing sharply through my teeth.

I could feel tears running down my cheek.

I was showing weakness to them…

I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because I had never been strong. Maybe it was because none of this was my fault. Maybe it was because my family had never told me why we were running. I_ still_ didn't know. I loved my parents with all of my heart, but this was their fault. I had done nothing but live.

"Do you hate them, boy?" The man asked. "If your parents had thought things through, you wouldn't be here right now."

"Shut up." I snapped, fixing him with my green eyes. I could feel his nervousness in the air. He, like everyone else, was afraid of my eyes.

For a moment, I felt a strange rush of power. My eyes were my only weapon here.

They were all I had.

Then, with a growl, the man broke contact, reaching his hand over to a nearby table. I saw him pick up a roll of gauze, and begin unwrapping it. Before I could even protest, he had wound it around my eyes, blocking my sight.

Now I was more helpless than ever before.

"Your eyes aren't human, kid." The man hissed. "They don't belong in a boy's face."

"Well, they're there." I snapped. "Are you going to cut them out?"

The man's cruel laughter sliced into my ears like a knife.

"Not yet, kid." He said. "But you keep that smart mouth of yours, and we just might."

I wanted to scream at him…but I managed to hold my tongue. Screaming would only make things worse. I would be completely at these people's mercy without my eyes.

I had to play it safe…for now.

I cautiously reached my free hand up to my face, pushing the gauze up onto my forehead. The man was rifling through my file again, mumbling darkly beneath his breath. For the first time, I looked around the room, staring in awe and fear at the great metal devices around me. There was a bed a little ways away with the limp form of a girl resting upon the thin mattress.

She looked no older than seven, pale blonde hair hanging around her bleary light blue eyes. I knew there was something different about her. There seemed to be an aura that hung around her body…something otherworldly. The more I looked at her, the more her hair appeared light green…the more her skin turned pale blue. It was strange…and slightly unnerving.

I exhaled, allowing my breath leave my lips cold and vaporous, telling me everything I needed to know.

She was a ghost.

I had never told anyone about what I could do. My life was made up of secrets--I didn't want to add another to the ever growing pile of my family's issues. So I kept it to myself.

I could see everything about this ghost's life, from her first memory, to the moment she died. This was the more disturbing side of my powers.

It was another car accident. They were the most common, but they were also some of the bloodiest. I closed my eyes, watching the event in silence, barely keeping back my tears.

That poor little girl.

"Can we run the tests tomorrow?" The agent asked, his callous voice wrenching me from my thoughts. "The boss says it needs to be done as soon as possible. Once his old man finds out where he is—"

"Then you shouldn't have shot him." The nurse snapped. "Even with halfa blood, healing should take at least three days. Before then, you risk killing him. Can you imagine how _pissed_ his dad would be if we killed his son? At least with him alive, we can use him as blackmail. 'Stay away from here, or your son ends up on a dissection table.' If I was a parent, that would work on me."

"But we're not dealing with humans." The whitecoat snapped. "They think differently than us. Ghosts have obsessions."

"Your point?" The nurse asked, annoyance apparent on her face.

"Any parent is protective of their children." The man continued. "But a parent with the obsessive tendencies of a ghost will do anything to ensure that their offspring is safe. Even drag them all over the country. If Daniel finds out that his son is here, he's going to break in, and attempt to bust him out. We at least need to have the preliminary testing finished, in case he can't be subdued."

Daniel…

They were talking about my dad.

My mind was desperately trying to figure out what they were talking about.

_"A parent with the obsessive tendencies of a ghost?" _

Were they just saying that because of how he obsessively kept me from these men?... Or was there something else? Something that he didn't want me to know about.

Something about me.

It had to be my powers.

I suddenly remembered what the GIW did. They were the government's ghost hunting team. They made sure that any paranormal anomalies were wiped out. So did my dad know? Was that why he had always been running? He was trying to keep me safe?

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out the answer I sought. It frustrated me that I didn't know, and that no one would tell me.

I groaned as the whitesuit saw me staring at him and tightened the gauze around my head. I felt defeated. Utterly defeated.

"Can we talk?" I asked. "I really want to know what's happening."

"Shut up, kid." The man growled. "You better heal fast, or else."

"What? You're going to dissect me?" I snapped, the man's tone causing me to raise my hackles. "I'd rather not die."

"Let me tell you one thing." I heard the whitesuit whisper in my ear. His breath was fowl and smelled like old meat.

But I was ready to listen.

The man chuckled darkly, before continuing in his grating voice…

"You're already dead."

At his words, I could feel my heart skip a beat.

My heart…

"I can't be dead." I replied, trying to keep my voice from wavering. "I'm still breathing."

"You're only partially dead." The man continued, pulling back from me. "A halfa to be exact. Half human, and half ghost. The human came from your mother, the ghost…"

"My dad?" I asked, hearing my voice crack audibly. "My dad's dead?"

The man laughed mockingly at me.

"He's a halfa too." He continued. I could hear his footsteps as he walked to the other side of my bed.

"I don't understand." I whispered.

"Then you're foolish." The whitesuit snapped at me. "We discovered that the halfa strain is more like a disease than a trait. It's not like being born from parents of different ethnicities."

He paused for a moment, before continuing.

"Let's say that your mother was German, and your dad was half Spanish and half Italian. When you would be born you would be Mostly German with your father's Spanish and Italian blood being weaker. You understand?"

I nodded.

The man huffed, but pressed on.

"But let's say that your father had some sort of disease, and it got passed on to you. Even if your mother didn't have it, that wouldn't mean that the disease was half weaker. It would be the same as it was with your father."

He paused, and I could imagine him staring me, looking to see if I was following him.

I was.

But I didn't like what I was hearing.

"Your old man gave you a disease, kid." The man said after a while. "One that's not all that common, and has no hope for a cure. You can't bring back the dead."

My breath caught in my throat…

I was half dead…

"If there's no hope for a cure…" I whispered, hearing my voice wobble. "Then why do you need to study me? I'm fine."

"If I told you that." The man hissed. "I'd have to cut off your hands and rip out your vocal chords."

Then he laughed obnoxiously, and I could hear him walking away.

That was when I met _her. _

At first, I couldn't see her. I could only hear her footsteps hitting the tiles as she approached. The whitesuit barked out a term of respect, to which she snapped an angry reply.

"What have you idiots done to_ my_ halfa?" She demanded in an aged, yet still powerful voice.

I hated the possessiveness she used when referring to me.

The whitesuit was stammering, at a complete loss for words.

A wrinkled hand rested on my forehead, as if checking my temperature, before lifting the gauze from over my eyes.

Her body reeked of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.

"You are a halfa, aren't you." She mused more to herself than me.

She was an old woman, with a gaunt, drawn face, and unsettling hazel eyes. Her peppery gray hair was drawn back into a tight bun, and she had a pair of thin wire glasses perched on her nose.

As she stared at me, I noticed that her colorless lips were drawn into a thin smile, as if she approved of something.

"Jacob Fenton?" She asked, taking a step back.

"Yes." I replied softly.

"Yes, ma'am." The woman snapped sharply.

"Yes, ma'am." I parroted, too afraid to do anything different. She smiled again.

"You are to call me Dr. Tearle, or ma'am at all times. Show respect to me, and you will get respect in return. Do you understand, Jacob?"

I nodded.

Another weak smile.

"You're going to be easier to handle than your father. I can already tell." Dr. Tearle continued. "Good things happen to those who obey the law. You've learned your lesson, haven't you? No more running away?"

"No, ma'am." I whimpered, feeling the pain in my side. "Unless someone tries to hurt me."

That earned myself a dark chuckle.

"You're going to feel pain, Jacob." The woman continued. "In order to find out more about you, we're going to have to cut into your skin, push you to your limits, pump you with drugs. We're going to have to poke you, and prod you, and study your behavior."

"But you said I'd get respect!" I snapped.

She silenced me with a look from her fiery eyes.

"When you show me the respect I deserve, then I'll give you the respect _you_ deserve. But you don't deserve much. If you act like an animal, who respects no one, you'll get none…and animals don't get to wear clothes."

I decided right then, that I hated Dr. Tearle. She saw me as…nothing more than her scientific pet. I was _her_ halfa, and she was going to hurt me.

She was going to kill me…

I knew it.

I fell to silence then, lying on my back, utterly defeated. I was scared, and unsure of what was going to happen to me. My future was looking terrifying…

I was scared.

Dr. Tearle smiled cruelly, and reached out with her old wrinkled hand, pulling at a small piece of paper sticking out from my jean pocket. I felt panic wash over me as I realized what it was. It was the letter from my angel. I had shoved it into my pocket while I was running, so it would be safe.

I had forgotten all about it.

The woman slowly unfolded the wrinkled paper, still smiling wickedly as she did so.

"Give that back." I snapped, instinctively reaching out for it. She pulled it away, glaring at me.

"Halfa's aren't allowed spouses." She spat harshly, turning back to the letter.

"'Dear Nikky.'" She began, reading my note in her harsh cold tone. I felt my face grow hot.

She was reading my angel's words.

"Nikky?" Dr. Tearle mocked. "Is that what she knew you as?"

She didn't even wait for me to reply. She crumpled up the letter, and shoved it into the pocket of her long white coat.

"Give him something so he can sleep. All this stress won't help him to heal. Make sure he gets something to eat later. He's going to need to be strong when he's recovered. The boss wants to see what he can do."

"Yes, Doctor." The agent replied, saluting.

I wasn't really paying attention anymore…

I welcomed the cold prick of metal against my skin when it came a few moments later.

In the darkness, I could forget myself.

I could still be with my mom and my dad, and we could still be playing a game. A game where the fastest runner won…

Where I was a winner…

* * *


	3. The Bit

**Spy Guy: I know I should be writing Masters' weapon, but I'm trying to make it really good. And while doing this, I realized that I had an entirely new chapter of this ready. **

**So here you go. I hope y'all like it. :D **

**And a cookie to whoever can figure out who the Fenton's annonymous benefactor is. :D **

* * *

Two days later, I was deemed well enough to leave the hospital ward. An agent came to fetch me, pushing an old wheelchair before him.

"No funny business." the man grumbled slipping a strangely shaped key into the handcuff binding me to the bed. I realized quickly that he was the one from all those days ago…the one who told me what kind of freak I was.

I could feel the stitches pulling on my skin as I was forced to lower myself onto the wheelchair's uncushioned plastic seat. I felt so weak…I could barely move.

The nurse came over, her delicate fingers taking my chin in their grasp. I knew what she was doing…she was drugging me…again.

It seemed like everytime I came to my senses, she was there, stuffing my mouth full of capsules, or poking my skin with a needle.

The bruises on my arm made me look like a druggie.

She pulled down on my jaw, and my mouth popped open, allowing her to deposit two pills on my tongue. I could feel her working the muscles in my throat so I would swallow, but my mind was elsewhere. I was enjoying my last few moments of coherent thought before the drugs took effect. I can't even remember if I tried to fight it. All I can recall is the world slowing down around me, my eyes drooping, and my head lolling to the side. I remember the nurse wiping something wet from the corner of my mouth, and I guess that I was drooling like an idiot.

The trip went unbearably slow, until finally, we reached a thick metal door, and I was wheeled inside the room it guarded.

My first impressions of my cell were bleary, and downright foolish. But, once the drug wore off, I saw that there was a sink on one of the pristine white walls, a mirror hanging above it, cracked in various places.

A mattress rested on the ground, white and plastic. The sheets were flimsy and cheap, and the pillow barely had any stuffing inside of it.

That day, the agent dropped me onto the mattress, and covered me in a heavy blanket. The entire thing was filled with sand weights, so it pretty much held me in place. I didn't really care. My mind was mush…

And that's how I spent my first night in my room.

* * *

The next day, Dr. Tearle came in, holding a stack of papers, grinning as if trying to make me feel better…and failing miserably.

"Today is a day to talk, Jacob." She said, allowing the door to shut behind her. "The more you share with me, the less we'll have to find out for ourselves. The more you cooperate, the more respect you'll deserve, and the more you'll receive. You understand?"

"Yes ma'am." I mumbled, sitting up on my mattress, pushing the weighted blanket aside.

"That's my halfa." She cooed in a mockery of affection, patting me on the head like a dog. I could feel my eyes smoldering as I glared at her. She was sitting beside me, holding a pen in her hands, clicking the top annoyingly.

"I have a basic I.Q. test in my hands." Dr. Tearle continued, shoving the pen behind her ear. "But that's for later. First, Jacob, tell me what you can do. I want to know if you've manifested yet."

"What?"

I had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

The woman's eyes darkened.

"You aren't allowed to ask questions." She snapped. "One more, and no breakfast this morning."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"But I don't—"

"Jacob." Tearle hissed. "Halfas don't have the right to question their superiors. I asked you what you can do. I expect you to answer me."

Superiors?

I glared at her for a moment, refusing to swallow the crap she was trying to shove down my throat.

"What can I do, ma'am?" I said, trying to hide the venom in my voice. "I can see, and smell, and taste and touch. I have emotions. I can feel angry, sad, lonely, or happy. I can breathe. I—"

She stopped me mid sentence.

"That's enough, Jacob."

"I was just telling you what I could do."

Tearle set her papers aside, a scowl forming on her aged features.

"Your father tried to be smart when he first came here." She nearly growled, glaring at me.

I felt an involuntary pang of fear at the mention of my dad. These people had done things to him…terrible, horrible things.

I remembered seeing him once when we lived in Colorado. There was a lake a little ways away from the cabin where we were staying, and we would go swimming there. Usually my dad would only watch, but on this day, the weather was almost unbearable. He decided to join me. 

When he took off his shirt, I saw faded lines running across his flesh, along with dots from old stitches. In some areas, his skin was wrinkled from where he had, at one point, been severely burned.

I didn't say anything to him, but I could tell he was ashamed of his scars…

As if he regretted doing what had earned them.

Tearle notice my silence, and sneered.

"He was certainly a handful. A fully-grown halfa, fighting every chance he could. He was very powerful, and that power had to be subdued somehow. Drugs, sensory deprivation, even crude torture. You father experienced all of these things. And if you refuse to cooperate, you will as well."

I turned away from her, my face growing hot.

I loved my father. He had always seemed to me a pillar of endless strength. He was brave, an eagle that protected me beneath its wing.

I couldn't imagine the pain they had put him through

I shuddered slightly, turning to the woman's smug face.

"Ma'am." I said softly. "I don't know what manifest means. Could you please tell me what you want?"

"I suppose." Tearle said, sighing. "Have you shown any powers, Jacob? Anything strange? This is very important. If you don't tell us, you _will_ regret it later."

I nodded, looking blankly at the floor.

"I think stuff has gone through me a few times. Things dropping from my hands. That kind of thing."

I sighed before continuing.

"I can sense spirits. This mist escapes through my mouth. I can also see…their lives…their memories. I can see how they died. I think that's it ma'am. That's all I can do."

Tearle grinned.

"Alright Jacob. I hope you're telling me the truth."

She picked up the I.Q. test from beside her, and handed it to me, along with the pen.

"You have an hour to finish this." The woman said, taking her leather-banded watch from her wrist. She set it on the mattress beside me, and slowly got up, her pained expression showing her age.

"The better you score, the more respect you'll deserve." She said, heading for the doorway. "I'll be back."

And so she left.

* * *

An hour later, I was still floundering through the test's brutal math portion. Tearle entered through the door, glaring at me darkly.

"I told you to be done in an hour." She snarled as she saw me working.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." I replied, trying to keep the anger from my voice. Just hearing her talk made me mad…but also very afraid. The two emotions helped to balance each other out, leaving me appearing calm on the outside… while inside, my mind was racing.

A part of me was dreading what she was going to do to me. Would she hurt me because I hadn't finished? Or would she starve me? Would she insult me, telling me that I was a stupid animal?

What would she do to me?

I watched the doctor warily, holding her wristwatch out to her, offering it as a sign of peace. She snatched it from my hands, growling angrily.

"Can you even_ tell_ time?" Tearle spat at me, acid dripping from her words.

I nodded, staring at a spot on the ground so she wouldn't see the rage in my eyes.

I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

Something struck my cheek with a sharp resounding crack. My head whipped to the side, and I instantly reached a hand up to my reddening skin.

She had slapped me.

Unbidden, small tears ran along my cheek, feeling cold and strange to me. Tearle suddenly exploded, seizing me by my arm, and pulling me to the floor. I landed hard on my knees, and let out a small whimper. This was rewarded with another slap.

"I told you to be finished." The doctor hissed, grabbing a handful of my hair, pulling it back. I was forced to look helplessly into her wild eyes as she glared at me.

"Sorry, ma'am." I said, trying to pull away.

"That's not good enough!" She shrieked, shaking me violently, the roots of my hair screaming in protest.

"Repeat after me, Halfa." Tearle demanded. "'Respect earned is respect deserved.'"

"Respect earned is respect deserved." I said, tears streaming freely down my cheeks now.

"Again!" The woman snapped, yanking my hair once more.

"Respect earned is respect deserved!" I whimpered. My stitches were hurting now, and I wanted to lie down, and sleep. I wanted Tearle to go away.

I wanted to go home.

The woman released my hair, swiftly scooping the test papers from my mattress and leafing through them.

"These look deplorable." She hissed, throwing them at me. "There's no reason to dumb down an _animal_ anymore than it already is."

I could feel my blood boiling, bubbling hot beneath my skin, itching to come out. I wasn't an animal. I was so much more than that. I was still a human being. People with diseases were still considered people. I already had one foot in the _grave_, and no one was doing anything to help _me_ get better.

It wasn't fair.

"I'm not an animal." I growled through my teeth.

"Of course you are." Tearle snapped, pushing me to the ground with surprising strength. "Tomorrow, you better be at your best. The boss wants to see what you can do. You better not act like an animal in front of him. Your father did. It made his stay quite unpleasant."

"This isn't _his_ fault." I spat, glaring up at the doctor. "It's your's!"

"Quiet, halfa!" Tearle hissed. "You need to learn to hold your tongue."

She began walking away from me, only to stop dead in her tracks. A wicked smile crossed her lips…and I could feel my blood run cold.

"Jacob…" She continued, staring at me, her words bubbling with excitement. "I have just the way to make you do so…"

And this is where it began…

* * *

Tearle left me alone for a few moments, so I gathered myself together and crawled back onto the bed.

I was terrified of her. My stitches were in pain from her tirade, as was my scalp.

But when Tearle returned…I knew that something much worse was waiting for me…

The thing she pulled out from her coat slightly resembled a horse bit. The entire thing was pressed flat, and it had a plate in the center that would rest on top of my tongue. The ends had heavy shackles fastened to them by large metal loops…

"Sit up." Dr. Tearle instructed harshly, taking my jaw in her wrinkled fingers. Before I could even protest, she stuffed the thing into my mouth, situating it so the metal plate sat perfectly on my tongue. Then, she pulled my arms behind my back, and snapped the manacles around my wrists.

"As you'll see, halfa," The woman said, checking to make sure I was secured. "The chains are very short. If you try to relax, you'll pull on the bit, and it will thus pull on the sides of your mouth. After a while, they'll begin to develop nasty sores. It won't affect your performance tomorrow, so the boss cleared it."

I stared out helplessly at her, feeling as if the metal on my tongue was going to choke me. I could feel a cold trail of drool run down my chin. I tried to swallow, but found it nearly impossible. Frustrated, I shifted slightly, wincing as the metal dug into the sensitive corners of my mouth.

"I don't lie, Jacob." Tearle continued. "You're going to stay like that the rest of the day. I will come to take it off at dinnertime, alright? By then, I hope you'll have learned your lesson."

* * *


	4. Interruptions: Visiting

**Spy Guy: OKay. I apologize for not reply to any reviews. sorry. but here's the next chapter to make up for it. This one may answer a few questions, but also raise even more. after the first paragraph it's no longer from Jacob's POV. It's third person...and about someone you've been waiting for. It also answeres the question I asked in the last chapter, which two people got right. :D Squee! **

_"By then, I hope you'll have learned your lesson…" _

And, unfortunately, by the time Dr. Tearle returned with a tray of food for me…I had.

At first, my anger had festered, leaving me determined to prove her wrong.

But then, I began to hear and see things…shadows running along the walls, swooping toward me. I would panic, attempting to draw back, the metal slicing into my skin. Dr. Tearle had been right. I could feel the sores forming around my mouth, helped by the spit that now coated my lower lip. I could also swear that soft music was playing through the wall behind me. It seemed to be whispering in a strange language. I wanted it to stop.

"Jacob………"

It kept saying my name…

My resolve soon crumbled into pieces, and I found myself on the brink of tears. I had cried more in my few days at the facility, than I had in years. It was as if the entire building was founded on misery and kept running by the agony of those within it. Dr. Tearle and all the others were vampires, drinking in my pain, waiting until I crumbled in their hold, mindless and obedient.

The thought made me want to cry.

And my arms were so tired…

I recalled my dad having a light pink scar running from one side of his mouth. This thing had to be what it was from. I wondered if my sores would scar. By that time, they were beginning to feel raw.

Dr. Tearle returned after what seemed like an eternity. I looked up at her cautiously, my spirit subdued for the moment, the glow in my inhuman eyes dim. She smiled knowingly, setting a tray down on the bed beside me.

"You're bleeding, Jacob." She said, taking a small key from her coat pocket. I cringed as she drew close to me, grabbing my wrist, roughly pulling down on the chain. My head snapped back, and I let out a cry of agony. The woman smiled cruelly, slipping the key into my manacles, snapping them open with a sharp click.

"Have you learned your lesson, Jacob?" She asked in a mocking tone.

I nodded weakly, staring out at her with pain filled eyes. I would have said "yes ma'am" if I could have spoken.

As she pulled the bit from my mouth, I could taste the coppery tang of blood running over my tongue. I instantly swallowed, feeling the nasty liquid sit uncomfortably in my empty stomach.

"Look at this, Jacob." Tearle sneered, running a finger over one of my sores. I winced, put paid attention anyways. Her finger was covered in dark red…

My blood.

"If you look close enough, you can see ectoplasm."

And I could.

It glowed brightly, just like my eyes. I had seen it in my blood before, but had been too afraid to ask anyone what it was. No one else had green blood.

"Blood can hide so many secrets." She said, wiping her finger on her coat. "But I'm sure you're hungry. I brought you some stew and a glass of water. You better eat it all. The boss needs you to be in fair condition for tomorrow."

I nodded again, pulling the tray closer to me. My swollen tongue licked at my bleeding lips, and I ran the back of my hand across my chin to get rid of the drool.

Tearle smiled, stuffing the bit into a large pocket inside her coat.

"Thank you." I rasped, bringing the glass of water up to my lips. It felt so good pouring down my parched throat.

The woman watched me as I ate, standing above me, her cold eyes glaring.

"You look so much like your father." She commented.

I made no reply, but looked up at her, confusion apparent on my face.

"We dragged him in here, after seizing him from his home. Do you know where we are, Jacob?"

I shook my head as she sat beside me, holding my bowl of stew in my lap. Tearle grinned maliciously.

"We're in Amity Park." She said. "This facility is just miles from where your father was born. His house is even closer. Your grandparents still live there. If your weren't a halfa, you could go to meet them."

I remained silent.

* * *

The man shuffled through the ankle-deep snow around him, his footsteps finding their way blindly along the buried path. He wrapped his red woolen coat tighter around his lithe frame, stepping closer and closer to the ornate cabin before him. A few moments later, the cabin's green pine door swung open, and an old man walked out, clad in a thick sweater, and slacks.

"Daniel?" The man asked, descending the porch steps, wearing only pair of red wool socks on his feet. Worry lined his face as he assessed the figure before him.

The young man was shivering, ice crystallized on his cheeks. His dark black hair was flecked with snowflakes and laced with early silver hairs. For a moment, Vlad stared down at his visitor, his mouth slightly agape with shock.

"Daniel?" He repeated, reaching out to touch the man's shoulder. "What are you doing out in the cold? Come on. You know that the fire's always ready should you or your family need it."

Daniel simply nodded, allowing the old man to wrap his arm around his body, and lead him slowly and carefully up the cabin's steps.

"Thank-you, Vlad." He whispered.

"Think nothing of it, Little Badger." The man murmured, ushering the young man into his home.

A few hours later, Daniel sat in a large plush chair by a roaring fire, clothed in a baggy blue sweater, a spare pair of old jeans, and flannel slippers. Vlad smiled weakly as he walked into the room, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed one to his visitor, and sipped from the other, seating himself on the edge of another armchair.

"So, then I got the phone call." Daniel rasped, his throat sounding as if it was filled with sandpaper. "From Dr. Tearle."

"I hate that witch." Vlad hissed through his teeth, violently ripping open a package of sugar.

"No one does more than me." Daniel snarled, taking a desperate gulp of his drink. He wiped the excess from his lips and continued, staring down at the foam swirling on the surface of his coffee.

"She told me that she had Jake." The young man whispered.

"She could be lying, Daniel." Vlad replied, trying to reassure his guest. "The old bat's played tricks on you before."

"But, she let him talk on the phone, Vlad." Daniel choked. "He sounded so scared. He was crying. He said that Tearle bar-coded him. That hurts like hell, Vlad. You know it."

The young man pulled at the neck of his borrowed sweater, exposing black lines and numbers that ran along his left collarbone. Vlad sighed, doing the same, showing off his identical marks.

"Of course, Little Badger." The old man murmured. "But pain like that will not kill him. Jake is fine for now. Don't you dare do anything rash."

"My son is being treated like a lab-rat!" Daniel snapped. "He doesn't deserve it! It's my freaking fault he's there in the first place!"

Raw ectoplasmic energy sparked around the man's fingers. Vlad cringed as the coffee mug in his guest's hands shattered, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. Daniel's breathing was heavy, and his normally blue eyes shone a bright, ethereal green. His once black hair was now almost a translucent white, the wispy ends floating around his head from the energy charging the air. He wore a high-collared black jacket trimmed in white, and dark pants with a white blaze running down the sides. Long black nails poked through his snowy gloves, sharp and deadly.

"Vlad…" He hissed. "You bought your freedom from them. You paid off the Guys in White, so you could be considered a human. Your money's funding their cruelty! The least you can do is help me!"

Vlad sighed, shifting to his own ghost form. His mug dropped from his trembling hands, striking the wooden floor with a dull thunk.

"I'm too weak, Little Badger." The man whispered, looking up at his guest with dull eyes. "Existence has been hard. They weakened me before I was released. I have to take pills, medications, just to stay alive." Vlad's face screwed up in pain. "Even living out here, I'm not free. Is that really the life you want for Jacob…for your son?"

At the sight of his former nemesis, Danny's breathing had calmed. The spike in his power faded away, and he reverted back to his human state, his expression cold, and guarded.

"So, you're saying that there's no way to get him out of there." Danny murmured.

"Yes." Vlad replied, following the boy's example, taking a deep breath of air. Daniel shifted slightly, brushing fragments of glass from his lap.

"Tearle said that I didn't really love him." He whispered softly, his voice cracking. "She said that it was just an obsession; that I needed something to care about. She told me that I only appeared to love him, because he was…" Daniel paused for a moment, hatred reflecting in his eyes. "She called him my pup"

"She said the same thing about my love for your mother." Vlad replied, ignoring the man's angered look. "Dr. Tearle doesn't think that the dead are capable of love. But Daniel, I believe that love is an obsession in itself. The dead love the most, for they cross planes to see the ones they care about. Tearle is a lying snake who is just trying to get you to submit again."

The two men started as a loud ring cut through the room. Vlad reached into his pocket, taking out a small square vid-phone, his finger automatically pushing the answer button. He turned away from the screen for a moment, motioning for Daniel to stay quiet. When he looked back… his face paled.

"Mr. Masters." An old grating voice cooed. "Why did you activate your powers in the same vicinity as Daniel?"

The old man froze.

"Dr. Tearle." Vlad choked, looking down at the screen. The woman's gaunt, wrinkled face was there, smiling smugly. Vlad's mouth opened slightly, watching his guest shake in rage from the corner of his vision.

"How do you know that, Doctor?" The older man asked, trying to hide the fear that was threatening to overtake him. How could one woman make him act like a scared little puppy?

"Vladimir, we always know where you are." The woman continued. "Ecto-signatures are easy to trace once we have ones DNA." She paused for a moment, smiling smugly. "We have yours, of course, Mr. Masters. And...your guest's as well. I never knew you two were acquainted. Have you been helping him out, Vladimir?"

"If you must know, you old witch, I've known Daniel for years. Ever since this whole mess started. His parents and I went to college together. He's like the child that I never had."

Daniel was looking on, a pained expression on his face.

"Don't" He mouthed, shaking his head.

"Birds of a feather." Tearle chuckled mockingly. "Vladimir, I thought we could trust you. You never mentioned that you knew him." 

"You could say that he is my obsession…" Vlad snapped. "My pup."

"So…if he's your pup, do you want to see your grand-pup then?" The doctor laughed. She moved the lens of her phone so that it focused on a new form, one sitting on a mattress set on the floor, wrapped in a white sheet, his eyes blindfolded. He had Daniel's dark hair, and deathly pale skin.

"Who is it?" The boy demanded. "Who are you talking to?" 

"No questions!" Tearle snapped. "Find me all the threes." 

Vlad watched, a strange expression forming on his face. The boy…Jacob Fenton… had a deck of cards in his hands, and was sifting through them, placing four cards on the mattress before him. He then set the deck aside, and picked up the selected cards, showing them to the doctor. Vlad gasped as he saw that all of the cards were threes.

"He's an incredible specimen, Mr. Masters." Tearle sneered. "Those are just regular playing cards, and yet, he can give me any number or symbol I ask."

"That certainly is a gift." The man spat. "But he's a boy. He shouldn't be locked away for something that isn't his fault. He obviously hasn't manifested in any dangerous ways. He's not a threat to you."

"Let his father speak. I'm sure he's dying to." 

Daniel launched himself from his chair, forcing the vid-phone from the old man's hands. He held it before him, his eyes flaring a haunting green.

"What are you doing to him!" He demanded. "You witch!"

"Dad!" Jake called, turning his head in the phone's direction.

"Daniel, you're being a coward by avoiding me. Just take yourself to the nearest facility, and we'll make sure to send you here, so you can be with your pup."

Vlad managed to wrest the phone from his guest's clutches, and walked away from the anguished halfa.

"Daniel is no fool. He will find a way to rescue his son. And then you will be sorry, you wretch."

Tearle smirked.

"You still think you're superior to us, Vladimir." She laughed. "No matter. I expect you to check into the nearest facility yourself. You've abused what we've given you. Refuse to comply, and we'll come take you ourselves. An old man like you shouldn't be running cross-country at your age."

With that, the woman hung up, leaving the two men alone.

"Daniel…" Vlad whispered. "This looks like the end."

"I'm not turning myself in!" The younger man snapped. "I refuse to!"

"Who ever said it was the end for you?" The man asked, staring up at his guest with dull eyes. "It's the end for me."

"What?" Daniel gasped. "You can't be serious."

"Tearle's right." Vlad continued, getting slowly to his feet. "I'm a very old man." He laughed bitterly. "I already have half of me in the grave. I'm done with hiding. I'm going to wait here for the GIW to find me, and then, maybe they'll take me to Jacob. I can tell him that you're trying to save him."

"You've shown me lots of good hiding places." Daniel said, his voice tinged in worry. "You could go to one of them."

"Bah!" Vlad spat. "I'm too old to get to any of them. Our powers are traceable…the important thing is your safety." He fixed his guest with a hard gaze. "Promise me that you'll think about the consequences before you act? Little Badger, you are Jacob's only hope of getting out of that place. You heard him. He's obviously waiting for you."

"I wonder if he knew it was a phone…" The other man murmured.

"No matter." Vlad said. "This is the last time we meet, ghost boy. It's been a good fourteen years of peace, Daniel. I'm sad that it's over."

"When you see them…say hi to mom and dad." The man replied, smiling weakly. The two stood, staring at each other, before Daniel embraced his former enemy in a hug.

"I'm never going to give up." The young man said. "No matter how many times they try to move him. No matter how they try to hide him from me, I'm going to find him Vlad."

"You're a good father, Little Badger." Vlad smiled. "Now go. Get far from here. Here's my last piece of advice to you." The old man pulled back, pointing to a chest of drawers set against one of the room's far walls.

"There's more fake identification packages in there. Ones for you, Jacob, and your wife. Take them all with you, but make sure you don't lose them. You're not going to have me anymore to make new ones when you get caught. Luckily, I had them made in advance, should something like this occur."

The man grinned.

"Head to the city, Little Badger. You can use your ghost powers until you reach that point. My theory is that Tearle and the rest of the whitesuits can only trace us if we're full ghost. If they could do more, they would have caught us years ago. Practice hard so you can strike them unnoticed. But in the meantime, take a plane to the east coast. You may want to purchase another pair of glasses, or dye your hair when you get there."

"I've done that before." Daniel pointed out.

"I know." Vlad replied. "But get it cut, maybe dye it blonde, or red. Find a pair of glasses, pierce your ears. You need to go all out this time. Make it so not even your own family will be able to recognize you. If you really want to look different, go upstairs, take some of my clothes. Some suits for job interviews, a dress shirt or two. I think you left some things here when you stayed for the summer. You can look, but do it quick. Who knows how long you have."

"Vlad." Daniel said. "I can't thank you enough."

"You don't need too." The old man replied, sitting in his chair again. "Go on, my pup." He sneered. "Hurry."

The young man nodded, running up the polished flight of stairs.


	5. Like a Dog

**Spy Guy: okay. It's been a long time since I updated this story. And that was because I was really in a rut. I'm still not happy with the beginning of this chapter, and I would appreciate reviews on how this story is going. I want to know if people would like me to continue it, because I like it, but I want to know if you guys like it too. **

**Anyways, because it's been so long, a brief recap. **

**Danny went to see Vlad and they talked before Dr. Tearle called Vlad on a video phone, and showed him Jake. Danny got mad, yelled at Tearle, gave away Vlad's location, and heard his son's voice. Vlad told Danny to take some fake id's and go after Jake **

**Jake found out he could pick any card from a deck blindfolded...**

**And that's pretty much where this chapter starts. Right after that...**

**Once again, it's from Jake's POV.  
**

* * *

"I hate you…" I growled beneath my breath, gripping the fragile sheets below me. The rag around my eyes blinded me, preventing me from seeing my tormentor's face.

I had heard my dad's voice…over the phone…If she would have let me, I could have seen him…spoken to him, asked him so many questions about what we were. Instead, I was left in complete darkness, performing petty parlor tricks for a witch.

As I flipped through the deck, I could feel a strange power building within me, guiding itself through my arms, down into my thin fingers. I stewed in my hate, pulling an ace from the pile in my hands, setting the card down before me. I then continued my search, numbly following the orders that Tearle had set out for me.

I don't know where she got the idea to give me cards. Maybe it was a trick my dad could do…I had no idea. Tearle had seemed surprised when I managed to do what she asked. Maybe…I was different than my dad.

She had probably been setting me up for failure.

Tearle pulled the blindfold from my eyes, exposing them to the harsh light in the room. She was smiling dementedly, as if the phone call had made her happier than she had been in a long time.

Knowing her, it probably had.

"You can say anything you want to me right now, halfa." She sneered, drawing close to my face. I could smell her latest nauseating perfume, something she had to have dug out of a bin in a dollar store. "I know exactly where your old man is." She cooed. "Your last hope, soon to be in the hands of the GIW where he belongs. Your dad is in Colorado, up in the Rockies where he was visiting another half-dead freak."

I could almost feel the last traces of color draining from my face. I felt as if I had been bled dry, my hands numb as I dropped the cards onto the mattress.

"Dad…" I whispered, blinking slightly, scared and confused by what Tearle had revealed to me. My first thought was: how could he be so stupid? My dad had successfully dodged the long arm of the law for as long as I could remember. Why would he allow them to find him now, when I needed him the most?

My second thought was different…who was the other halfa he'd been visiting?…was he my grandfather?

No…Tearle had said that my grandparents were in Amity park…or at least, that's what she had told me. Maybe my dad wasn't going to be caught at all. Maybe she was just trying to force my surrender, so she could show me off to her boss.

I decided, then and there, that I would have be stronger.

"The other halfa is Vladimir Masters…the millionaire." Tearle continued, checking her watch. "I know you wanted to ask, but your pride got in the way. Mr. Masters was able to buy his freedom, only after we'd managed to procure Daniel. Apparently, they've known each other for a long time. He called your father his pup."

"What does that mean?" I demanded, trying to be brave, but my voice trembled slighty...making me sound so weak.

"Well…" Tearle continued. "Each creature in the animal kingdom has a different name for their young. Halfas are subhuman, so the scientific name for their children are puppies.. When Vladimir referred to your father as his pup, he was saying that Daniel was his son…a possibility, we will be sure to look into when they arrive. If Daniel truly is Vladimir's pup, then we will have three generations of halfas at or facility."

She paused for a moment, giving me a moment to process all of the new information. Could Vladimir Masters really be my grandfather? Really? I had never met my grandfather…or at least, I had never met anyone who officially went by that title. I had met Uncle, but he had never acted grandfatherly towards me. So…was Uncle my grandfather?

"It's getting late." Tearle finally announced, gathering up the blindfold and her deck of cards. She stuffed them into her pockets, humming slightly to herself. She then reached into a pocket on the front of her coat, and took out an orange plastic container filled with hundreds of small pills.

I stared at the bottle forlornly, realizing that my sleep would be empty that night. Whenever they drugged me, I dreamt nothing. I hated dreamless sleeps. It just felt so pointless…wasted…

And…in my dreams, I could see my family again, and all the friends I had abandoned over the years.

"Open up." The old woman snapped, shaking two white tablets onto her palm. I complied, realizing that I had to pick my fights wisely around her. If I rebelled against everything, I wouldn't last very long. They would have me chained up so tightly, that I couldn't even move. I knew that I had some small freedoms in my little room, and that I had to find a way to exploit them before I went mad.

The tablets were bitter as Tearle dropped them onto my tongue. I swallowed hard, feeling them stick unpleasantly in my throat. The old woman then told me to open up again, and she checked my mouth to make sure I had actually taken them. When she was satisfied, she whisked out of the room, shutting the light off behind her. I suddenly found myself engulfed in complete darkness.

With a sigh of defeat, I allowed the drug to take hold of my mind, forcing me into an unpleasant slumber…

* * *

The next morning, it wasn't Tearle who came to wake me. It was a cold-faced GIW agent, with smoke colored sunglasses, and scars lining his face. I tried not to stare at him, but found my curiosity getting the better of me. The man growled when he noticed, anger written plainly across his marred face.

"Eat your meal, boy!" He snapped, sharply moving his hand to the gun hanging at his side. Just the sight of the weapon made me cringe, and I instantly tucked into the cold, tasteless bowl of mush he had brought me.

In his other hand, I noticed that the man clutched a long rod with a wire hoop on the end. I'd seen dogcatchers carrying them before.

The wire could get bigger and smaller, depending on the size of its target. I noted that the device was glowing faintly with a soft green color that matched my eyes.

When I was done eating, the man approached, holding the rod out towards me at arm's length.

He looped the glowing wire skillfully around my neck and quickly pulled it taut. I hissed slightly as the thin piece of metal pushed against my windpipe.

"Careful." I snapped. The man started at the sound of my voice and pulled on the rod, nearly choking me.

"Get up!" He demanded, pulling his gun from his belt. It too glowed green, and an electric charge crackled at one end.

I complied with the agent's command, getting up from my small mattress. He held the rod at arms length, forcing me as far away from him as he could. It was obvious that he was scared of me…his body seemed to _reek_ of fear.

His emotions hung heavily in the air, as apparent to me as the glasses that covered his face. I couldn't help but smile smugly at him, my ghostly eyes wide. The scent of his fear made me feel extremely light-headed and I could feel myself literally _drinking_ it in. But...drinking emotions wasn't new for me.

Whenever people were happy, I thrived on it, usually joining in, allowing the emotion to provide me with energy. When someone was sad, I also drank it in, trying to force myself closer so I could taste more, seemingly empathetic. When I had tried to explain what I was experiencing to my mother, she had told me to avoid negative emotions, like sadness fear, anger, and pain. She told me that what I could do was normal, and that I should feed on happiness, hope, and love. For the longest time I had tried, but being away from people had made me weak…

And the man was _so_ scared of me.

The GIW agent was suddenly on full alert, his hands pulling sharply on the rod. I gagged as the wire dug uncomfortably into my skin, tightening almost unbearably. My eyes snapped shut, and I was suddenly dragged back to reality.

"You little freak!" The man growled. I whimpered as the gun's charged barrel was jammed into my side. The shock traveled through my body, sending spasms of pain though my system. The man ignored my pitiful whimpers as he led me from my cell, and into the stark white hallway. It was like being blinded. My eyes widened in shock.

He didn't even give me a chance to recover. The agent led me too quickly through the hallways, keeping me walking ahead of him at a brisk pace. My muscles were burning in protest to the sudden physical activity, but I trotted forward, like a dog on a lead, clutching a hand to my side.

* * *

The head of the Amity Park branch of the GIW was a former military man known only as Mr. V. I soon learned that his name was pronounced like 'five', but was engraved on his nametag as the Roman numeral. Regardless of how he spelled his name, I recognized him instantly from my first day. He had called me weak…and he had stared at me as if I were a cut of beef hanging in a slaughterhouse.

As I was led into the testing room, I could feel him staring at me the same way. His hair was fair, and slicked back against his skull. He was thin, yet fit, and he walked towards me with a calm grace, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

"You don't look too good, Agent N." Mr. V said, turning to the man who had brought me in. The agent shook his head, handing the rod to his superior.

"He's a Leech, sir." Agent N replied.

"A Leech?" The man asked, turning his attention to me, his blue eyes blazing. "We haven't had one of those since...since Spectra."

"If I had known what he could do, I wouldn't have let him." The agent replied, holding a hand to his head. "I feel so tired now. Am I excused, sir?"

"Of course." Mr. V replied, nodding. Agent N saluted and left the room, closing the lab door behind him.

I simply stood, staring at the man, scared and confused. I was tired as well. The boost I had felt from agent N's fear had quickly ebbed away, and I was left weaker than a newborn.

"Did you know what you were doing?" The man asked, turning to me. I shook my head, afraid to meet his eyes.

Had I _really_ been drinking emotions this whole time? Was that why all my friends were so lethargic all the time? I had thought it was just stress.

"There are some ghosts who feed of of others energies. They're classified as Leeches." Mr. V continued, slipping the loop of wire over my head, freeing me. "Do you see now why you're dangerous? No _human_ should be able to do things like that."

"But it's not my fault." I hissed thought my teeth. "I never would have--"

I didn't have a chance to finish. Mr. V backhanded me across the face, knocking me backwards. I cursed beneath my breath, reaching a hand up to my stinging cheek.

"Same reaction as Daniel." The man mused, pacing around me. "I think I've dealt with your father enough to be able to handle an adolescent halfa pup on my own. I may look like a feeble _human_ to you, Ghost, but I assure you, I have to the power to rip you to shreds. That human skin you wear can suffer, and if you choose to disrespect me, I will not be afraid to beat some sense into you. Is that clear, Mr. Fenton?"

"Crystal." I replied through my teeth.

Mr. V frowned, glaring at me.

"I'll let that slide for now, but you should address me as Sir in the future. Now...let's begin."

* * *

The testing room consisted of a few ragged pieces of exercise equipment, a few monitors, and a dusty water cooler. I was put to work on the treadmill first. A few doctors, with stony, emotionless faces, hooked me up to a number of machines, fastening wires to my temples with sticky pads. They took away my shirt, and stuck more to my chest; even ones on my arms and throat

It started out slow, an easy thing for me. I had been on the track team once. Running was my specialty. Once I got my muscles warmed up, I fell into a comfortable rhythm.

But then the speed began to climb.

My legs pounded against the hard surface of the machine, pushing to keep up…yet getting me nowhere. I could feel my stitches pulling at my side, and my lungs heaved painfully as they struggled to get enough oxygen so I could function. I clutched desperately to the two handles at the front of the treadmill, depending on them to keep me from falling.

Soon, as the speed continued climb, I could feel my fingers weakening. They were slipping along the foam and plastic handles, getting closer to losing their grip entirely. With a pained growl, I finally had to let go, my face hitting the rolling strip as it mercilessly pulled me along. The wires were yanked from my skin, and I found myself huddled in a ball at the end of the treadmill, my entire body tense. Mr. V grabbed me by my hair, forcing me to look at him.

"You've been running all your life, Fenton." The man hissed in my ear. "You'd think you could run faster than that."

He released me before I could reply, slamming my skull against the base of the treadmill. I groaned in pain, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath.

After that, I was dragged to my feet, and told to lay town on a bench. A doctor then proceeded to test how much weight I could lift. Obviously I hadn't inherited the gross strength of my father. They told me he could lift 2,000 pounds without breaking a sweat.

I could barely handle 200.

* * *

When the tests were finally over, I was taken to a back room by one of the doctors, and told to sit in a chair at a metal table. It looked like the interrogation room from some cop show my mom used to watch.

The doctor was fairly young, somewhere in her mid thirties, with her hair held back in a messy bun. There was a mousy quality about her...and she didn't make me feel afraid...which was a nice change. She was only curious.

"We've come to the conclusion that you don't have the same skills as your father." She said, lacing her fingers together and biting her bottom lip.

I just wanted to go to bed.

"Dr. Tearle said that you showed some psychic abilities. Mr. V also said that you were classified as a Leech?"

"I didn't know." I whispered.

"I'm not here to persecute you, Mr. Fenton." the woman replied, holding her hands out. "I'm simply here to determine where your powers lie, to try and understand you."

"I can't fly." I replied, looking at the floor. "And I can't turn invisible, or walk through walls, or do any of the things that ghosts can do. All I can do is...see things with my eyes shut, and...drink emotions. Who's to say I'm a ghost at all?"

"Your eyes." The woman replied simply. "They glow in the dark."

"Only sometimes." I mumbled. But I knew that it wouldn't help. My eyes were the stigma that condemned me again and again and again.

"In the end, it doesn't matter what you can do." The doctor sighed. "We'll all continue to research it, but I'm here to tell you that from this day on, all you are is a lab rat."

I looked up at her, my insides freezing, my ghostly eyes wide in shock.

The woman continued.

"You are a specimen of new genetic material. Your blood alone is worth millions on the black market because of its rarity. You know that normally, blood and ectoplasm can't mix? They react like oil and water when in contact with each other."

"Nice...to know." I whispered, feeling as though I should say something...feeling too numb to really care.

"Having you here puts the American government in a powerful spot. Should our enemies decide to begin spectral warfare, as some have been researching, we'll be prepared with new weapons and technologies created by your blood."

"I don't get it." I murmured, feeling my heart beating franticly in my chest. I didn't understand what she was talking about. I felt lost. So lost...

"Ectoweapons are powered by a ghost's ectoplasm." The woman continued. "They can't hurt humans. Weapons designed to do both are heavy, and cumbersome. Perhaps, with some amount of research, and a little of _your _blood, we could change that. It would give your country a leg up."

As I sat in that chair, my country was the last thing I cared about.

* * *

**Spy Guy: I know this chappy is uneventful, but It's still important. I can't tell y'all to press the purple button to review anymore. Now it has to be the button with the green checkmark. **

**But still, review. It lets me know what you're thinking, and I'm going to make an effort to reply from now on. :D Yay!  
**


	6. Ectoplasm

**Spy: To me, this chapter seems very rushed, but I really couldn't think of what to put in the gaps without making it too slow. It was a lose lose situation. I'm sorry. **

**But Vlad makes an appearance in this chapter. I'm not sure how long he'll be around, but for now, here he is. **

**Enjoy. **

* * *

Over the next few weeks, they treated me like a pin cushion

The scientists poked me with needles, leaving me reeling from the loss of blood, pumping me with fluids to keep me going. I was moved from my room to one of the hospital wings, kept handcuffed to the bed as I languished on the stiff mattress. They were smart, not taking too much, just enough so they could have plenty to study, and I was left weak.

Then, came the ectoplasm.

The theory was that, maybe, my powers would manifest if I had a higher ecto-count. Tearle showed me the ratio between my dad's human blood, and his ghost blood, and how they were almost equal. My ectoplasm count was considerably lower than his...and the scientists came to the conclusion that in order to bring out my inherited powers, they would have to shoot the green goo into my veins.

Small amounts at first. Nothing too painful.

But then, the doses increased.

Men had to hold me to the bed. I thrashed and bucked, growling deep within my throat. Their cold hands would press against my skin, then the sharp prick of a needle would pierce my flesh...

Followed by...the burning.

Ectoplasm hurts...so much. It feels like bugs tearing their way through my veins. Every time Tearle shot the stuff into me, I wanted to die.

Life went on like that for two months.

* * *

A young, emotionless nurse was cleaning the ectoplasm from my fingers with a damp cloth. For the past few days, I had managed to form the substance around my hands, but not for long. Just enough so that it lingered on my skin. Tearle said that I simply didn't have the energy to make it dissipate. I had no choice but to listen to her. She knew more about halfas than I did.

The nurse finished her task, and set the rag aside, taking my lunch from a tray.

"Can you feed yourself today?" She asked, her voice deadpan. I was sure that I could _psychically_ feed myself, but what I really wanted to do was leech away her emotions. I had subconsciously been gorging myself on feelings my entire life...so now, away from people who cared, I was starved.

The nurse set a small tray on my stomach, and helped me to sit up against my pillows. As I reached for my fork, the chain attaching me to the bed rattled softly, and I caught a slight whiff of the nurse's fear in the air. Quickly, I snatched it, thankful for some sustenance. It was strange how, ever since Tearle had addressed my power, I could control it. It was suddenly a part of me.

The nurse shuddered, quickly backing away, her fear mounting. I smiled at her, turning towards my food, stabbing at a small square of meat. She left the room in a hurry, leaving me alone...for the moment. I knew Tearle would be back soon, and I wanted to be finished eating before she came to torment me.

A few minutes later, the fork slipped from my hands, covered in globs of ectoplasm. The liquid was oozing from my fingers again, tingling slightly against my skin. With a sigh, I pushed the food away, staring blankly at the wall.

I wanted to escape...and I still had hope that my dad was out there. In the past two months, there had been no word about either him, or the other halfa the GIW had supposedly captured, and even if my father _was_ imprisoned, my mother was still out there, and she was strong and brave...and very smart.

One of them would find me.

They'd save me.

They had to...

* * *

It was another half hour before Tearle entered my little hospital room. The flow of ectoplasm from my hands had refused to stop, and I was now covered in the stuff. I had tried to wipe it off on my hospital gown, but instead, only succeeded in smearing it all over my front. There were even spots on my face where I had gone to scratch myself, and forgotten about the fowl goop on my fingers. Tearle simply smiled at me, and reached for the rag on the bedside table.

"You're like a child, Jacob." She mocked, making a show of wiping the goo from my cheeks. "Smearing your paints all over. We're going to have to teach you not to be so messy."

"Sorry, Ma'am." I replied, trying to keep the venom from my voice.

The old woman finished wiping down my fingers, satisfied with the results as no more ectoplasm seeped through my pores. She then sat in the chair by my bed, grinning smugly, as of she knew everything in the world...The sight of her face made me want to hurt her, but I knew that I couldn't...

I would have to bide my time.

"Our branch just received clearance to hold another halfa." She smirked, pausing to take in my reaction. I didn't show her how scared I was. I knew that opening up my feelings only made her happier.

"Vladimir Masters is currently on his way here from Colorado." Tearle continued, getting to her feet. "He should be here by tomorrow afternoon, and will immediately begin the same treatment as yourself, to bolster his powers. I believe that you two will get along very well."

I nodded sullenly, wondering briefly if my father was being held in Colorado...

I wasn't supposed to ask Tearle questions, and I knew inside that this one would only make her laugh at me. So, I kept my mouth shut, steeled my nerves, and threw my food tray to the floor.

Just to show her how childlike I could be.

She didn't have me beat yet.

* * *

Vladimir came in the next day, as planned.

He had long silver hair hanging in greasy strands around his face, and pale skin, lined with blue veins. His weak body was supported by two guards, who dragged his bare feet carelessly across the tiled floor. Our eyes met briefly, and I saw a smile pulling at his pale lips.

"Jake..." The hybrid whispered, only to receive a blow to the head from one of his escorts.

"Quiet!" The man snapped.

"Dammit , you whitesuits are all the same." Vlad spat, his eyes filled with sudden strength. "You smack around your specimens until they're useless. You fools--"

"Mr. Masters." Tearle snapped, cutting the old man off. "That is quite enough."

"I ran Axion labs for ten years. " The man growled, anger radiating from his body in waves. "We had our 'subjects, yes, but they were at least treated right." There was fire in his eyes, a fire that simmered red in his irises. It scared me. Even as weak and as feeble he looked on the outside, he was a skilled fighter at heart. I could see it...

He _was _a ghost after all, and one of my powers dealt with their past...I closed my eyes...so I could know him...

The images were blurred, but I could still see a mass of swirling green in my mind's eye, and feel pain wrenching me apart. My face burned...

The name of a woman formed on my lips, and it felt as if just saying her name would make everything better. Only she could heal the pain and abandonment I was feeling.

Pictures of a barren room...a ward. My throat felt raw from screaming.

Pain, agony. Loneliness. Then hope.

I saw my father...younger, wearing pajamas, looking battered with his eyes gently shut.

The images sped faster, faster...I couldn't keep up with them...so I stopped trying.

I opened my eyes in time to see the old man lifted onto another bed beside my own. He was handcuffed in place, left lying prone on the mattress.

But he was smiling.

Tearle selected a syringe of red ectoplasm from a tray, and wordlessly proceeded to wipe a pad across the old man's arm, disinfecting the area. Vlad made no sound as she pushed on the plunger, forcing the ectoplasm inside his body. He almost seemed to shudder in excitement, his eyes flaring.

"You took my powers from me." Vlad whispered softly beneath his breath. "And now you so readily return them? Fool."

"Hold your tongue, or I'll rip it out, Masters." The old woman spat, throwing the empty syringe to the floor.

"Why should I, hag?" The halfa chuckled hoarsely. "Does it really matter anymore? I know Daniel won't rest until he's killed you, Tearle. I can die easy."

I didn't know what to think about that...

* * *

**Spy: Like I said. This chappy's a little fast. Sorry. I'm having such horrible writer's block right now. I apologize. Please, tell me what you think. And once again, I'm sorry. **


	7. Tell me a Story

**Spy Guy: i have had this done forever, but guess what? It got kind of...lost somewhere in the maze of all my files. Yesterday I was like, "I'm going to find this."**

**Three hours later, I found it. Yup. Three hours. XD It was pretty lost. But, I found it, so I'm posting it. I know my updates are slow. Please stay with me. I'll find my groove back someday. **

**

* * *

**

It wasn't long before night came, and the lights around us dimmed. All of the scientists left, locking the door behind them, sealing it with a ghost shield. I sighed, settling back on my pillows, reaching for the rag the nurse had left, using it to wipe down my hands. The room was silent, save for the steady beeping of machinery, and the soft breathing of the man beside me.

I was tired, as I usually was, and my body ached from the ectoplasm shot a few hours earlier. Yet, sleep never came easily, and I usually spent hours staring at the ceiling, thinking about home...

But, this night was to be different.

In the bed next to mine, Vlad sat upright on his mattress, breaking the silence with a loud rattle from the chain fastening him in place. I watched worriedly as he tugged at it, and knew instantly that he was testing its strength.

"Don't do that" I whispered urgently. "They might hear."

"These people are fools, Jacob." Vlad replied, his smile reflecting in the dim light. "They give _me_ ectoplasm, and expect this flimsy shackle to hold. I could near break it tonight, I bet you."

I simply stared at him, at a loss for words.

"You must think this is hopeless, Jacob." The old man continued, lowering his arm to his side. "But, even if these people have improved their methods ten-fold, they are still merely _humans_ who make dire mistakes. Remember that."

I looked away, turning my attention to my hands. They were clean, for the moment...so I pushed the rag aside, and shut my eyes, trying to find peace. The one good thing that had come from being in the hospital wing, was the lack of sedatives to ensure my sleep. One the darkness closed around me, I could dream again.

But, Vladimir had other plans.

"Those people are lying to you." The man said, his voice seeming to fill the empty room. I turned towards him, unable to hide the feeling that raced through me.

What was he talking about? So many things could be lies...he would have to be more specific.

"They do not have your father. I sent him off with a pile of fake I.D's and a bunch of my clothes." Vlad continued with a chuckle. "And it he gets into a pinch, he can always possess someone...though the boy's never enjoyed that."

"He can possess people?" I asked , carefully shifting to my side so I could better focus on what the other halfa had to say.

Vlad nodded.

"We always called it overshadowing. It's not an easy thing to do, but if he needs to _really_ hide, what better way to do it, than in someone else's body?"

"He's coming, right?" I asked, hope creeping into my voice.

"As fast as he can." The old man replied softly.

We fell to silence then, swallowed up in the beeping of the machines monitoring my body. Hope swelled within my chest.

My dad was coming. He was going to rescue me. All I had to do was survive...isn't that what I'd been doing for so long already?

"I want to see him..." I whispered, unable to hide the longing in my voice. "I want to see my family."

"I know, Little Badger. Just wait."

And that was all I could do.

* * *

In the days that followed, the scientists continued with my regimen of ectoplasm, finally evening out the doses. The burning soon dulled, only to be replaced by a soothing numbness. After a few weeks, the ooze stopped seeping from my fingers.

The GIW continued to take my blood. They pumped me full of ectoplasm, let it mix with my human blood, and then took it back, for their research. That meant that, most of the time, I was left in the infirmary, weak, pale unmoving. However, unlike before, I had someone to talk to. I had someone to reassure me, and give me hope. Vlad told me that my father was coming for me. He insisted on it, and I believed him. I wanted nothing more than to see my family again.

Whenever we were alone, Vlad would tell me stories. He told me how this had all begun...how my grandparents were simply ghost hunters trying to open a portal to another world. Their names were Jack and Madeline.

Vlad admitted that his ghostly obsession had once revolved around my grandmother. That was why he and my dad didn't get along at first. Vlad warned me about how powerful our obsessions cold become, and that I had to control myself.

"I never made things easy for your father." The old man whispered one night, when the lights had been turned off, and we were left in darkness. "A part of me knew that he needed someone to relate to...if only I hadn't tried to force him, maybe he would have come to me sooner, and none of this would have happened."

"What _did_ happen?" I asked, my green eyes staring up at the ceiling.

There was a long pause before Vlad spoke again...and even then, I could hear his voice shaking.

"The government started following me." He replied. The man paused again, taking a deep breath. It took him a few moments to continue again.

"At first, it was just the FBI, you know...looking at my business transactions. But then, they were suddenly replaced by the GIW, and I knew that something was wrong. Only a few days later, your father was attacked by them. He managed to escape with only a few bleeding wounds, but only barely. He didn't tell me about it. He simply went home, thinking he was safe. About a week later, a man tried to mug me...or so I thought. He only sliced my arm with a knife, and then ran off. I found out quickly that he wasn't after my money."

"Your blood?" I asked.

"Yes." The old man sighed. "Had I known about Daniel's attack, I might have been able to connect the dots in time to warn him, but, instead, I was taken away in a GIW transfer van, handcuffed, gagged...drugged. No one told me anything...for a while, my mind was...it wasn't right. I don't like being locked up, Jacob. I hate it."

I heard his voice crack.

I waited a while for him to continue, but, it soon became clear that the story was over for the night.

* * *

The day the synthetic blood was complete, was the day I returned to my room. It was also the day they finally stopped poking me with needles. By then, my arms were riddled with so many holes and bruises, I looked like some kind of junky instead of a victim of science's cruelty.

"Soon, you're going to start training again, Jacob." Tearle announced with a cruel grin as she ran her fingers absently through my long, greasy hair, her expression smug as I didn't try to move away. I was tired. All I wanted was to sleep, and regain my strength.

"Rest, halfa." The doctor said, pulling her hand away. "Mr. V wants you to be in peak condition. We're not finished with you yet."

_"Nonono..._" My mind cried through the haze. But, I didn't say anything out loud. My eyes were already closing. So sleepy...

* * *

I was left alone for a while after that. As my strength returned, I became restless, pacing my cell or staring forlornly at my alien reflection in the cracked mirror. A part of me always felt hungry for something I knew I couldn't have. I needed emotion. I needed to taste it. My body thirsted for it, and the stronger I became, the more powerful the urge. Eventually, it became so overwhelming, that I desperately fed from a man who came to cut my hair. I fed until he was unconscious...and only then could I force myself to stop.

"My, Jacob. You must be getting stronger." Tearle said when she discovered what I had done. I expected her to punish me...but what she did was so much worse.

So much worse...

* * *

**Spy Guy: Apologies for the cliffie. Feel free to drop a review to yell at me, it you wish. :D and thank all of you who have stuck with me. Thank you so much!**


	8. Ghost Form

**Spy Guy: This has been sitting for a while, so I apologize for not getting it up sooner. Something was just...off. **

**Enjoy, and please send a review my way. :D **

* * *

**Leech: noun.**

**Definition. **_A person who clings to another for personal gain, esp. without giving anything in return, and usually with the implication or effect of exhausting the other's resources; parasite_.

_...Parasite..._

_

* * *

_

I couldn't help myself. I was so used to the endless love of my parents that I just couldn't live without having _something_ to sustain me. Hatred tasted fowl. Sadness made my stomach turn...but fear? Fear tasted delicious, even better than love. I later learned that love was an "acquired taste" for leeches like me, and that fear was more natural for my diet.

And thus, I grew stronger than I even could have before.

My mother had warned me, in her own way, not to drink fear. She said that I should only surround myself in happiness and love. But those things were gone, and a part of me was dying.

I had to feed it. I had no choice.

When Tearle brought the first human before me, blindfolded and handcuffed, I was determined not to do to him what I had done to the man who had tried to cut my hair. I sat on my cot, trying to ignore him, all the while too aware of how scared he was.

"He's not leaving until you're through." Tearle told me, crossing her arms as she stood by the door of my cell. "It's your choice, Jacob."

I tried so hard not to give in, but eventually I found my body approaching the poor man, and I could feel his emotion slipping down my throat as I began to feed. It filled my lungs, my belly, my soul. I could feel my head clearing, my limbs becoming stronger. Next thing I knew, I had my hands fisted in his shirt, pulling his trembling body closer.

I could feel the moment he lost consciousness.

"That's enough, halfa." Tearle said, drawing me away. My hands were shaking.

I had done it again.

The old woman was smiling. I hated that smile. I just wanted to punch her in the face. Break all of her teeth so she couldn't smile at me like that again. What was I becoming?

"I'm not going to starve you anymore." Tearle continued, long bony fingers carding through my short hair (she had cut it herself after what had happened). "You need to get stronger. Only then can we begin to understand you."

I dropped the man's limp body to the floor, a strangled sob catching in my throat as I started to cry.

* * *

Feedings became routine after that.

Tearle would bring me random workers from inside the compound. They hadn't been told anything about where they were going...only that they were being punished. When they arrived in my cell, they were blindfolded and usually shaking with fright...that was when I would make my move.

I was so hungry all the time.

During one of my checkups, I learned that I had grown four inches since coming to the facility. I was beginning to gain weight and muscle. I was given three hours every day to use the gym. I lifted weights, ran on the treadmill, and went a few rounds with a punching bag. The routine kept my mind off of everything else.

Another month passed, and I couldn't help but wonder where my dad was. I was trying my hardest to survive, but...in the process I felt like I was changing.

I needed him to come soon.

* * *

Soon, I learned that Vlad was getting stronger too. I had just finished my time on the treadmill when he entered the gym, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, his arms showing shadows of muscle instead of the flab I had seen before. He was walking, unsupported, followed by his guards instead of dragged. His silver hair had been cut as short as mine. It made him look strange.

"Jacob." The old man said as he approached. "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."

"So are you." I replied. "What are you doing here?"

Vlad paused for a moment, turning to the guards that had escorted him in. One nodded, and only then did the old man continue.

"I'm here to help you...find your ghost form."

"Ghost form?"

Vlad sighed, and took a deep breath.

"The ghostly energy inside of us can manifest in its own form. When we let it out, our human appearance is altered so that our bodies can better handle spectral energy."

This was followed by a long pause, as if Vlad knew I would need time to take in his information. I had another form? What would I look like? Like a monster? Would I look like all the other ghosts I had seen; with slimy green skin, or a frigid blue body?

"You will need to channel all your energy into your center." The old man pressed on, drawing me from my thoughts. "It will be difficult at first, but you'll get better."

"Why do I have to find it?" I asked. "Why do the GIW need to have me in my ghost form?"

A shadow passed over Vlad's face, and his eyes turned to the floor. I suddenly felt my stomach drop. His face said it all. My thoughts wandered to what Tearle had once told me. She had said that they were going to test me, to bring me to the edge of endurance. My heart sped up, battering against my ribcage.

"Show him." One of the guards barked. I could see Vlad tense beside me, his newly regained muscles becoming stiff, his posture guarded.

"I don't really see why that's-"

"That was an order, Mr. Masters." The other guard with a cruel smirk. "Or do you want me to tell your keeper that you were disobedient?"

Vlad growled deep in his throat, before turning to me, his face becoming soft. His eyes were sad...almost afraid. I wondered, for only a moment, why he would be afraid to show me his ghost form? Did he look like a monster? Was he afraid that he would scare me?

"I seems as though I don't have a choice." Vlad sighed.

I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

There was a bright flash of light, so bright I had to cover my eyes. I felt a wave of pain wash over me...though it wasn't my own. It wasn't a physical pain...it was a mental one. Agony, suffering. Cold radiated through my bones

In my head, I could hear screaming. I could see white walls. Feel rough canvas beneath my hands. There was a figure before me, wearing nothing more than a long, crude tunic of the same material, resting against a padded wall, crying.

Then, suddenly, the figure, a man with a shaved head, let out an ear-bleeding screech, pounding his skull against the wall again and again. I tried to close my eyes. I couldn't take any more. I knew who that man was, and I couldn't watch.

"Jacob...Little badger?"

There were arms around me. Strong, powerful arms. But, they were cold. They were so cold. Yet I could sense love.

Love?

"What's wrong with him?" a hazy voice asked. It was one of the guards...

There was a slight struggle as the men tried to wrench me from the cold arms holding me. My fingers gripped soft fabric.

"Don't touch him!" A voice hissed. It was Vlad...but his voice sounded wrong.

I managed to open my eyes, only to find myself looking up at a pale face, tinged blue by death. Its eyes were blood red...twin fangs hung over colorless lips. It was a ghost...

"Don't you dare touch him! Something's wrong!"

There was green swirling behind my eyes...swirling green...

That was all I could see as my knees collapsed, and I slipped into oblivion.

* * *

When I woke up, I was in a strange place, lying on a strange bed. The first thing I saw was Vlad, hovering by my side, his face showing relief as I started to stir.

"Where...?"

"This is my room, Little Badger." The man whispered. "They let me take you here...Tearle's not in the building today. You...you need tell me what happened."

"I..." I blinked a few times, trying to get my eyes to focus. I felt a hand touch my forehead, and concern flooded through me. Subconsciously, my ghost half snapped at it like a shark, dragging it out of the only man who had showed me any kindness here.

But, I was hungry.

"Jacob." Vlad said, pulling away, as if he could sense what I was doing. "This isn't just shock. I know...I should have warned you about what was happening. I should have told you about my ghost half before...just showing you. But, this wasn't shock. You need to tell me what happened."

I felt like my abilities were a secret. A part of me trusted Vlad...but another wanted to keep my thoughts to myself. Keep what I had seen locked away. I felt like I had witnessed something incredibly private, a series of dark memories that I had unwittingly stumbled upon. But, Vlad was waiting for me, his eyes filled with concern.

I had to tell him the truth.

"I...I can see things."

Vlad's eyes widened. "See things?" He asked.

"Yeah." I replied, giving a weak smile. "I'm not strong like my dad, but...I can see how a ghost died...like a psychic."

"I see..."

The man became very quiet after that. He sat beside me, glancing in my direction every so often. I wondered if he felt ashamed of what I had seen. I wanted to tell him that he shouldn't...but, I couldn't. I didn't want to break the silence.

"What did you see, Little Badger?" The man finally asked.

"A swirling green light..." I murmured. "Then a white room. I saw my dad..I saw a lot of things. None of it made sense."

"Did my memories scare you?"

I shook my head.

"Not really. Usually, it doesn't come so suddenly. It surprised me."

"I've done things that I regret, Little Badger." The man replied softly. "Whatever you see in my mind, know that I've changed..."

Slowly, sleep began to reclaim me, and I felt the darkness creeping closer with each passing second. A a part of me just wanted to drift away...but another wanted to stay and talk with Vlad...

The previous won out... 


	9. Addiction

**Spy Guy: This was actually a pretty fast update for me. :D For some reason, this story has been coming easily to me, so I've been writing it non-stop. It's taking a darker turn now, as things for Jacob get harder, but it's reaching its end. I hope you guys have been enjoying the ride. :D I know that it's been a hard story to write for me, but I'm so happy that so many people have accepted my OC, Jake. That means a lot to me. :D **

**:D **

**:D **

**And one more. :D **

**

* * *

**

My fingers gripped the man's sleeve sight, as if trying to hold his shaking form still. I breathed in deeply, my hold spreading to the flesh of his shoulder. My nails dug into his tender skin, and I quickly drank in the spike of fear radiating from his body. It was like breathing to me, a natural shift in my mind that allowed me to consume emotion.

After I fed, I noticed that Tearle was not alone. There was a young man with her, only a few years older than myself. He was of East Asian heritage, with soft brown hair, and square glasses. In his hand was a notebook, and he was writing.

"Ma'am?" I asked, turning away from my meal.

"He's an intern." Tearle replied. "His father holds a prestigious position in our chemistry department. He was one of the men who helped to synthesize your blood."

I stared at the boy for a moment, sensing his apprehension towards me...but it was cloaked in fascination...in wonder. I glared at him, turning away. I was a human being, just like him. I wasn't something for him to ogle at, and write about.

* * *

**Every day, I could feel my status as a human slipping away from me.**

* * *

Sparring came almost naturally to me. Suddenly, Vlad was filled with energy, like a young man again. His face looked less haggard, and he could move almost better than myself. His reflexes were honed, his mind focused. As the days passed, he began to teach me.

I still couldn't find my ghost half, but seeing his was no longer a surprise. I got to know his face, blue from lack of air, and his red eyes.

"I made this form for myself." He told me. "I made it so I could scare people."

I didn't want mine to scare anyone.

We would meditate for hours on the gym floor, legs crossed and eyes closed. Vlad told me to search for my ghostliness, to find it, and hold on to it. I could always feel its coldness inside me, writhing, begging to be let out...but, it seemed underdeveloped...weak. I knew that it wasn't ready.

I fed, I built my strength, I let that boy write about me. I let Mr. V continue his tests. I let myself be treated like a labrat. It was all I could do...I fell further into my routine, doing what I had to do to survive.

And then...things changed.

"You need to _make _him afraid of you."

I turned to Tearle, my body quaking from my ghost half's hunger. It was so used to the constant stream of sustenance, that without it, I could no longer function.

Realizing I was addicted...that was the hardest part. Realizing that human food was no longer enough for me...and realizing that the thing inside me was growing and that it _needed_...I was scared by it.

The man Tearle had brought me wasn't afraid. He wasn't anything I could feed off of. He seemed tough, silent. There was no way he would scare easily.

"Ma'am...can't you bring me someone else?" I asked, my voice shaking audibly.

"No." The woman coldly replied. "Either you feed from this man, or your starve."

"I-I...I can't do it."

Tearle's expression darkened.

"Are you sure of that, Jacob?" She asked.

I nodded, fingers toying with the hem of my shirt. I had to close my eyes as my meal was led from the room...and I was left alone.

* * *

I was plagued with weakness and fatigue throughout the day, the shaking in my limbs becoming worse. I tried to keep my mind busy by playing solitaire with the cards that Tearle had left after one of our sessions, but couldn't concentrate. I tried to sleep, but my mind was suddenly a nonsensical whirl. All I did was lay on my mattress and stare at the wall, tears brimming in my eyes as dark thoughts raced through my mind. Sharp pains shot through my stomach, but all I could do was sob, and hold my arms around me. The room was so empty...so cold. I needed...I needed something to...to stop it all.

As the day came to an end, someone opened my door and shoved my daily gruel inside. Like an animal, I raced after the scent of fear that wafted through the opening, but wasn't quick enough to drink any of it in before the door was closed and locked once more

I spent a few minutes scratching at the door jam, futility trying to pry it open. Giving up, I tried to eat the food left for me...but it only served to upset my stomach even further. In a fit of rage, I threw the bowl against the wall, giving myself a small smile of satisfaction as it shattered. No one came to investigate the noise.

I couldn't sleep through the night, and spent most of my time sitting against the door, trying to feel some emotion through its thick, metal surface.

Tearle returned the following morning, finding me still awake, large bags beneath my eyes. She smiled smugly, and I tried to reach out...to steal whatever emotion she was feeling...but whatever it was, I recoiled from it as though burned. It didn't taste good...it wasn't what I needed.

"Are you ready to try again?" She asked me, her smile growing wider.

"Can't...Can it be someone else?" I asked, my voice soft...desperate. Slowly, Tearle shook her head, and I felt my heart plummet.

"Please-"

"Jacob, I've already made up my mind." The woman replied. "You do not argue with me. Either you feed from that man, or you continue to starve. I'm giving you a choice."

"I'll..."

I couldn't make my voice work. My mind was warring, each part wanting to make me say something else. Deep down...I knew what I had to say. I had to say it in order to keep my morals...the values that my parents had raised me to honor and respect...and that had already become so skewed here.

In the end, all I could do was shake my head, and close my eyes. My arms tried to comfort my rebelling body, holding it tight in their own weak embrace. Tearle tutted softly, but relented, leaving the room without another word. I knew that she was giving me a choice on purpose. She wanted to break me...to make me take the final step toward what she wanted me to be. I knew that once I made that man afraid of me...there would never be any going back.

Once more, I cried, my trembling voice calling out for my father. I needed him so much...I needed him to come and rescue me...to show me the love that I had been starved of. I wanted to be held, and feel my mother's embrace.

And I wanted to see my angel, and kiss her...I wanted to spend time with her just holding her in my arms. I didn't want to be the thing Tearle was turning me into.

* * *

Four days later, I couldn't even move from my spot beside the door. I couldn't keep any human food down...I was dehydrated, my eyes reddened from crying. I couldn't do anything anymore...Tearle didn't even speak to me as she led the same man inside at the end of those four days. He was still hobbled with manacles, his eyes blindfolded.

He wasn't radiating any emotion that I could feed from. If I wanted to feed, I would have to...I would have to _make_ him afraid.

My weak hand grabbed his sleeve, and I shook him, trying to get a reaction.

Nothing.

I shook him harder, knocking his head against the wall.

Nothing.

My nails dug into his sleeves, tighter, tighter. I could feel energy pooling in my hands. There was a hiss as the fabric burned away beneath my palms, leaving the man's arms exposed. But, I didn't let go. I continued to hold on, and my hands continued to burn until the smell of flesh filled my nostrils...

And that was when I felt it.

A flash of fear that I latched onto like a hungry jackal. I needed more, so I clamped by hands down harder, and continued to burn him. More and more...more fear. I couldn't drink it in fast enough. It became thick in the air, and I relented my grip, eyes wide as I finally gave myself the nourishment I so desperately needed.

And Tearle was smiling. She was smiling the whole time.

* * *

I didn't tell Vlad about it.

The next day when we sparred, I didn't tell him. I punched, and kicked; danced on my feet just like I always did. I tried to distract myself, and forget the feeling of burning flesh beneath my palms.

But, Vlad wasn't stupid. He knew. I could tell that he knew. If it was anyone else, I might have thought that it was just paranoia...but it wasn't. It was Vlad...and he could see right through me.

"You're fighting's sloppy today." He said wiping his brow. "You're distracted."

"I'm tired." I replied, taking a quick drink from my water bottle.

"You can tell me what they did to you, Little Badger"

"Nothing." I said.

Vlad glared at me.

"I haven't seen you for days, and now you're _lying _to me." He growled beneath his breath, eyes flaring red. "I'm not foolish, boy."

I didn't want to tell him. I didn't want him to think that I was some kind of monster. I had hurt that man...burned his flesh with my bare hands. I was a horrible creature who needed to hurt people to survive. What would he think of me?

"I was sick." I replied. "It was a fever."

I could tell that he didn't believe me.

Vlad shook his head.

"When I first got my powers, I set an entire wing of my college on fire."

His voice was low, so the guards couldn't hear him.

"Before that, I took out a dozen hospital workers, all because I couldn't suppress my ghost half. We've all done things we regret, Jacob. What we are makes us do horrible things, but we get by. We do what we have to in order to survive."

I shook my head.

"I don't want to tell you."

"Get back to work!" One of the guards shouted.

Vlad gave me one more sad look, before I raced at him, hands balled into fists, ready to attack.

They were glowing with green fire.

* * *

The second time, it was easier. I knew that there was something dark inside of me, squirming to get out. Something that killed and tortured for survival.

It was inside me, slowly crawling to the surface...

And I wasn't sure that I could stop it anymore. 


	10. Interruptions: Fallen Hero

**Spy Guy: This is a broadcast from the somewhat timely update system. This an update. I repeat, this is an update. Grab your chairs, your beverages, and your computers/cellphones, because this is not a drill. **

**lol. Sorry guys, I'm a tad bit bored. XD **

**I've just moved into an apartment closer to my college...and by closer, I mean right across the street. For those of you who know what city I'm in right now, wish me luck. For those of you who don't...it's better off that way. XD **

**Anyways, this is another chapter where the POV is not Jacob's. Jake's actually not in here at all. You get a shiny new character to read about. He's canon though. xD I have to keep the OC's to a minimum, donchaknow? I've decided to go back and call these kinds of chapters "interruptions" because they are. I almost have the chapter after this completed, and then there will most likely be another short "interruption", but I really think you'll like it. **

**My writing style's on the move again, so, this is a little different than usual. I hope ya'll enjoy, and please review! **

**

* * *

****Interruptions: Fallen Hero**

Kwan remembered how happy he had been to finally get a job.

The position at the governmental GIW facility was a once in a lifetime opportunity, with a hefty paycheck, and a chance to learn more about the creatures plaguing his hometown. It was a good job, one that was guaranteed for the future. It hadn't taken him long to put down roots and start a family.

And then, he was trapped.

The GIW facility was like a living, breathing creature...a monster that he had come to depend on for money. He clung to his job desperately, knowing that he wouldn't find another like it...not one that could support his family. Others tried to run...only to be met with either death or ruin.

It didn't take Kwan long to hate his job.

* * *

Maybe that was why he had answered the anonymous plea that had been left on his doorstep. Maybe that was why he found himself wandering deeper and deeper into the city in the dark, chasing after an invisible phantom. He was fed up with the company that had ensnared him and was quickly taking his son. Despite knowing the dangers, despite knowing that he was already on thin ice with his superiors, Kwan approached the dark warehouse hidden within the bowels of the city, all too aware of the cold winter air cutting into his lungs.

At first glance, the warehouse was empty, filled with old decrepit boxes and crates, rotted from neglect. Kwan flinched as he heard the scurrying of rats, and saw their red eyes in the darkness. If the letter had been left by who he thought...he could be anywhere, lurking in the darkness, even standing right beside him, and he would never know. Kwan didn't want to speak...didn't want to give himself away if the area wasn't safe...but he was beginning to get nervous, and the chill in the air wasn't helping at all.

Frozen vapor puffed from his lips, hanging heavily before him. It was then that he heard the soft padding of boots on concrete, followed by a cold hand gripping his arm. Before Kwan could even react, he was being pulled through the floor, forced invisible by a phantom touch. He was roughly ghosted through a few basement levels, then a series of decrepit tunnels, impossible for humans to maneuver alone. There was no time for questions...no time for Kwan to struggle away. He followed his ghostly messenger through a cracked stone door, and into a long forgotten room...

And that was when his old friend appeared.

"Danny?" The scientist asked, fixing his crooked glasses. It had been a long time since he had seen his classmate...and he had hoped not to ever again. The man had changed; no longer as gaunt and malnourished as he had been before. His hair was shorter, an odd color of auburn, but his eyes were still blue...

"I was trying to disguise myself." He said, as if reading Kwan's thoughts. "I didn't trust it though...so I've just been hiding here."

"They can track your signal." Kwan said. "You shouldn't be using your powers."

"But they can't get down here, and besides...Tearle knows I'm going to come to her eventually. She has what I want."

"Your son?"

Danny paused, turning away, quickly gathering a fire together in an ancient hearth. He lit it himself, the flames momentarily glowing green, before fading to orange. The threw off his ragged coat, and slumped down on an old cot, burying his head in his hands.

"Have you seen him?" He asked, his voice too soft for the superhero Kwan had once respected. "He's okay, isn't he?"

"I haven't seen him in months." The scientist answered truthfully. "My own son has...but he won't tell me anything."

"Your son?"

Kwan nodded ruefully.

"He's a few years older than Jake...did I ever tell you about him before?"

Danny scoffed.

"There really wasn't a lot of time for talk."

Kwan sighed, moving to sit by his former classmate's side.

"I'll tell you what I _do_ know." He continued. Danny turned to him, his worn face showing in the firelight. The man before him was old...older than he...if only in appearance.

"Jacob is a leech, which means he needs human emotion to survive."

"I know that." Danny replied. "Ever since he was little."

"I've heard that he eats their fear."

"It's his nature." The other man said, fingers carding through his oddly short hair. "We're _ghosts_ Kwan. There's some things that we can't help."

Kwan nodded.

"In my department, we synthesized your son's blood to use in weapons. His ectoplasm count was much lower than yours, so Tearle gave him injections for a few months-"

"That witch!" Danny snarled, his hands curling into fists, eyes flaring green in the dim light. His quiet demeanor was suddenly gone, replaced by a creature consumed by rage...still not the hero Kwan knew...and much more frightening than he should have been.

"Before all this, he didn't know about me, or his powers, or anything to do with that place! He knew that we were running...but I never told him why. That bitch needs to keep her hands off my son..."

And then, as quickly as his anger had spiked, it was gone...and the once powerful halfa was crying.

Kwan was at a loss as what to do. He had never really known Danny in the first place...Dash had always picked on him, thinking that he was scrawny and weak. But, when Kwan first seen Phantom at the facility and saw that it was none other than his classmate, he knew that he had to do something. Danny didn't deserve to suffer there.

No one did.

"You need to get him out soon, Danny." The scientist said.

"Don't you think I know that?" The halfa demanded, his eyes flaring again. "I've been trying, researching, slinking around in the city's underbelly for months trying to find a way in! I don't know how I'm supposed to do this! I could barely get out myself."

"There's really nothing I can-"

"What if it was your own son?" Danny demanded. "What if it was _him_ that Tearle was torturing, and experimenting on. Wouldn't you do _something_ to get him out of there?"

"If I do anything and I get caught, it _will_ be him" The scientist snarled. "I have a family too, and I need to take care of them. There's nothing I can do!"

"Then why did you come?"

Kwan paused, taken aback by the phantom's demand. Why _did_ he come? Was he hoping that a miracle would happen, and the GIW would disappear? Was he hoping that he and his family would be free again, to go where they wanted, and live how they wanted?

"I don't know..." He murmured, shaking his head sadly. "Maybe I was hoping that you were the hero I remembered."

The halfa scoffed, turning away, before pulling himself to his feet. He gazed into the fire, wiping away the stray tears on his cheeks

"I haven't been that person for a long time." Danny whispered. "I don't think I have it in me anymore."

"For your son's sake...you better hope you do."

* * *

Kwan left the warehouse in despair, wondering why he had taken such a risk for so little information. Danny wasn't going to do anything. He was too hopeless...too scared of Tearle and the GIW to pose any threat to them at all. All the risks he had taken had done nothing to bring back the hero he remembered.

Nothing.

Hands thrust into his pockets, Kwan made his way home, once again traversing the winding roads and alleyways that had become so familiar to him. Sometimes he would walk out there, all alone, somewhat hoping that a ghost would come to carry him off. He knew that his work was hurting people, but he plodded along anyway, because it was the only thing he knew how to do.

It was the only thing he _could _do.

The GIW were taking his son from him...slowly and surely, drawing him in as well. The problem was, he didn't see it yet. He had been raised in a world where ghosts were no better than vermin, and anything touched by them was tainted. There was nothing Kwan could do to erase the seed of evil planted in his child's heart. Such intolerance was taught...and he had been too busy with his job to intervene and stop it.

Ghosts weren't heartless creatures. Danny himself had taught him that. They were driven by obsession, their minds concentrated on a single goal that they had in life. Sometimes, their obsession led them to do horrible things. But ghosts, just like people, could not be all lumped together. There were ghosts with good hearts, and tragic pasts, ghosts that Kwan had communicated with before their untimely demise at his hands. He had taken everything from them-their blood, their minds...

All because he was too afraid.

Letting Danny free had been the bravest thing he had ever done. He still couldn't believe that he had gotten off as clean as he had. There was always a voice echoing in the back of his mind, telling him that Tearle _knew_ what he had done...but was biding her time. He had lived his life in endless fear, ever since he had snuck a key from his superior's pocket, and allowed Daniel to wear his body to escape. What if the cameras hadn't been properly disabled? It would be his face they had seen...his face incriminated forever...

Tearle had to know.

Tearle had to know.

Suddenly, there were dark shapes materializing from the shadows, falling upon him, familiar weapons drawn...

They held the new blasters, the ones infused with synthetic halfa blood. That meant that the past had finally chosen to catch up with him, on the night that he had met with the person responsible for all of his fears. There was no way he could fight them. No way that he could ever hope to stand up to the weapons and the training that he had never received. The end of the blasters were warm even through his coat, and the hands of his attackers pulled at his arms, trying to force him into handcuffs. Kwan let them, not knowing what else he could do. Even if he escaped, they would find him. He could take his family and run...but that was what Danny had done...and that hadn't worked at all. In the end, the GIW would find him...In the end, it all would have been for nothing.

Then, there was green in the air, bright against the night sky. Kwan could hear screams, and the firing of weapons. He strained to see, his eyes searching for the specter he could feel in the air.

And for a moment, he saw him...The hero he remembered from so long ago.

Danny Phantom.

And then, stars sprang across his vision...and the world went dark...


	11. Results

**Welp: Hello. It's me again, updating trolololol~ This story is still drawing to a close. Just...don't kill me after this, aight? Please. Don't do it. I like living. **

* * *

I stopped speaking to Vlad after that.

We fought as though we were enemies, myself channeling all of my pent of emotions into my fists. I still had to struggle against the elder halfa, but I was growing stronger. He wouldn't best me for long.

Soon, I went back in for a few tests. My fitness was returning...I could run on the treadmill for hours and not even work up a sweat. Tearle assured me that that was normal-halfas didn't really sweat because of our lower body temperature. When I was younger...before the facility...and before I'd known about my powers, I had been normal, just like all the other kids. I can remember sitting in the bright sun on a hot day, watching over the streets from my perch on the fire escape, my sweat-soaked hair sticking to my forehead. No more. Those days were gone. My skin was always cold and clammy, as white as a sheet.

My body had begun to produce its own ectoplasm, so there were no more injections. No more wasting away in a hospital bed. I was moving forward in a new direction, learning to embrace the ghostly part of my nature that had so long been repressed.

I always felt starved, hungry. The need for emotion was growing stronger...and I was becoming more dependent on it.

Before I knew it, a year crept up on me.

A lot can happen in a year. I'd been separated from my family for twelve months, forced to subject myself to countless experiments and tortures.

I had changed...and inside I knew that I could never go back to what I'd been. I could never be fully human again.

* * *

It had been a year, and my powers still hadn't progressed any further. Tearle and Mr. V became even more impatient with me, resorting to harsh violence as my abilities failed me again and again. I found myself quickly turning into a terrified and skittish soul, who flinched whenever someone moved too quickly or shouted. Tearle began to starve me of emotion again, reducing me to a quivering emaciated mess. I tried my hardest to please her, but nothing worked. I simply couldn't do what she wanted me to.

That was when I was introduced to the tank.

The tank was a tube filled with raw ectoplasm, located in a lab off of the training rooms. I had no warning when the white coats came dragging me out of my bed, and into the harsh light. I screamed, but found a hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my protests. Soon, we were in the lab, and the tank was there, emptied of all ectoplasm, its front panel opened wide.

Before I could even take it all in, the hand covering my mouth was roughly replaced by a strange breathing apparatus...at least that was what I thought it was. Air rushed towards me, and my lungs sucked it in greedily. The guards maneuvered me up a small ramp, and into the tank itself. I tried to struggle against them, but their grip on my arms held firm.

I felt the prick of a needle in my arm, and the sickening feeling of liquid oozing into my veins. They'd drugged me...with what, I didn't know, but a strange sensation was racing through me...and I didn't like it at all.

I was left alone in the tube after that; the door shut on me, and vacuum sealed. I stood in the dark for a few moments, before something cold and wet started sloshing around my feet, rapidly rising up over my knees. It wasn't long until I was fully submerged, my body held fast in the thick substance, and, as I hung in its cold embrace, I realized what it had to be.

Ectoplasm.

I didn't understand what was happening. Everything was moving too fast...One moment I was sleeping in my bed, the next, I was trapped in a strange tube. My mind couldn't keep up with everything...

It couldn't.

It wasn't long before I realized that I couldn't move. My muscles were lax, trapped in the green goo. My eyes slipped closed, and I began falling in and out of sleep.

What came after was a whirl of confusion. Time passed by, wrong and distorted. Eventually, I couldn't feel anything. It was like I was floating in space, lost among the black. There were colors dancing in front of my eyes. I couldn't see my surroundings through the ectoplasm. It was a just a wall of solid liquid, holding me, trapping me in its embrace. I could hear voices, but I didn't know where they were coming from. The words seemed mumbled, and I almost drove myself crazy trying to hear. Trying to understand why they seemed to be talking about me, saying my name over an over again.

When the liquid finally began to drain, I could only slump bonelessly against the side of the chamber, body coated in slime. I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't think or speak. I simply let a man remove the breathing mask from my face, and drag me out of the chamber. In the background, I could hear Tearle's voice, but I couldn't comprehend what she was saying. She asked me a question, and I nodded blindly, my bangs clinging to my face.

"_Are you sure?" _She asked me.

I nodded again, not really sure what I was agreeing to. I was tired, and a feeling of cold was settling over me. The ectoplasm had been warm...and being without that warmth felt strange to me. I didn't like the feeling. There was a breeze in the room, and I began to shake.

"Can you show me your ectoplasm?" Tearle asked. The room was growing clearer. I could hear her voice, and weakly raised my hand, forming the familiar substance in my hand.

"Good Halfa." she said, praising me.

"Can you fly?"

Fly? I couldn't fly. They'd tried in the gym before, but I'd never been able to. My dad could fly...but not me. Not at all.

"Good halfa." I heard Tearle say, and for a moment I wondered why I wasn't being punished...

And then I realized that I was hovering a few inches above the ground...

I could fly.

I landed with a thud.

"Can you show me your ghost half?"

That was something I knew I couldn't do. That part of me was still curled up, not yet ready to come out. I shook my head, resting a hand on my diaphragm. That's where it was. The power, waiting...waiting. It wasn't ready, and I couldn't force it.

That was when Tearle hit me, knocking me to the floor. My reflexes were too sluggish. I couldn't defend myself as her boot made contact with my ribs. I cried out, staring up at her through bleary eyes.

"You worthless beast!" She shrieked, leaning down to grab the front of my shirt. "You're really trying my patience. You can't even transform! Worthless! Worthless!"

I started crying.

"Put him back in." Tearle growled. I whimpered as I was seized and dragged backwards into the tube once more, injected with the same drug, and fitted with the breathing mask. When they closed the door, I began to scream until the ectoplasm swallowed me whole and the numbness set in.

* * *

..._"We need results."..._

That was the first thing I heard when I awoke the second time, still covered in ectoplasm, and spread out on a metal table. There were bright lights in my eyes, sending stabs of pain through my mind. I tried to look away, but my body wouldn't listen. A whimper rumbled deep in my throat.

"The point wasn't to kill him. You kill him, and that's it. No more research."

Tearle was angry at someone...she wasn't happy at all...

"My superiors have changed their minds. They don't need anymore information. They want a halfa."

"I'm doing the best I can! He's been exposed to so much ectoplasmic radiation in the past week, he should be dead. There's nothing else I can do to make this happen."

And I began to sob, loudly, like a child. It was all I _could _ do. Everyone in the room turned to me, and just stared, unsure of what to do. In that time, I begged for my family. I wanted to see them again. I wanted to see my dad and my mom. I wanted to see the girl I had hoped would be mine. I didn't want to see anymore ghosts, or the color green. I didn't want to eat emotion, or feel helpless and trapped. I wanted to be free.

"Shut him up!" Tearle snapped. A man approached, and clamped his hand over my mouth.

"We can try the tank one more time, but after that, we can't risk it. We can't lose his blood."

And then the torture began anew.

* * *

The next time they pulled me out, I was once more thrown onto a table beneath harsh lights. I looked around, seeing only a few faceless figures dressed in white. I saw Tearle, and her assistant with the clipboard, who was clearly afraid of me. I mentally reached out, trying to force the emotion from him, but Tearle yanked the boy aside, glaring at me with her cold eyes.

"You're going to have to get over this." She hissed to the boy, shoving him away from the table. "You're no use if you're afraid."

"I'm sorry." The boy whimpered, and I heard him walking away.

They did a few x-rays, took some more blood. Someone pulled up my shirt, and checked my heartbeat.

"It's slowed." The person, a man, told Tearle, drawing away. Tearle took the device, listening for herself.

"That's normal." She said. "Help me strap it down, and we'll leave it for the night. This whole thing was _useless_."

Then, they left, and I was all alone.

Or so I thought.

The young man with the clipboard was still there, standing a few feet away, staring at me. I returned his gaze, aware that my eyes were glowing green in the darkness.

"I'm going to try not to be afraid of you." The boy said.

I shook my head weakly.

"Don't know what there is to be afraid of now."

The young man took a few cautious steps forward, his shoes making loud sounds in the quiet lab.

"Most people are afraid of ghosts" He said, his voice timid and soft. "...but...I got a phone call from my dad yesterday...and he told me some things. Things that made me think."

The boy shrugged stiffly, sliding the clipboard beneath his arm.

"He said that not all ghosts were evil. They're just driven to do bad things by their obsessions. It sounded like he'd been wanting to tell me that for a while, but he didn't have the courage. He was afraid to."

I could feel tears welling in my eyes again, but I held them back. I couldn't be weak again.

"Who are you?" I asked, tipping my head to the side.

"My name is Jung." The young man replied, holding one hand to his chest. "I'm an intern here. My father works..._worked_ here in one of the labs."

His slip-up was impossible to miss, even for my addled mind.

"_Worked?"_

Jung nodded.

"He's been missing for about two months." The boy murmured, hanging his head. "One night, he didn't come home, and despite our best efforts, he couldn't be found. About a week after that, Mr. V called my mother and told her to stop searching for him. I thought...I thought that maybe he'd stolen company secrets, or tried to smuggle out a ghost. Sometimes workers do that...but then he called me." The boy shook his head, a small smile curling over his thin lips. "I was mad at him at first, that he would jeopardize everything we'd worked for, but then he told me about you, and your father-"

"Your dad knows my father?"

Jung nodded once more.

"They went to high school together. And, in the end, it was my father that helped yours escape."

He clenched his fists at his sides.

"I've been blind all these years, thinking that ghosts were just spectral echoes and monsters that needed to be eradicated. I now know that my father was ashamed of me...and I'm ashamed of myself...I want to make this right."

The boy turned to me, his dark eyes filled with sadness.

"Something's going to happen tonight. Be ready. Don't worry about anyone else. Just get out of here."

"What-"

"I can't tell you any more." Jung said, holding up his hand to silence me. "Good luck."

And with that, he was gone.

Confused and scared, I lay on the metal table, staring at the ceiling until my eyes flickered shut, and sleep overcame me.

* * *

It happened during the night.

There were suddenly arms holding me, forcing me to keep still. There must have been at least five men around me, all of them trying to push me to my feet. I screamed, but a hand quickly clapped over my mouth, effectively silencing my protests.

"If you try to run, we'll shoot you." A guard hissed in my ear. "You need to cooperate if you want to live through tonight."

I glared at him, but allowed two of the men to hoist me up, and carry my body uncomfortably between them. The others pulled blasters from their holsters, flanking us on three sides as I was forced from the lab.

I instantly knew that something was terribly wrong.

There was a loud screeching echoing through the halls, mingled with the sounds of groaning metal and breaking tile. I could hear blasters firing, hear the screams of men cut abruptly silent. There was a battle going on. The facility was under attack.

Fear raced through me, and I braced my feet on the ground, refusing to go any further. There was a voice shouting over the intercom, but I couldn't make out what it was saying. There were so many sounds...so many emotions.

"What's going on?" I demanded, overwhelmed by all the lights and the noise.

The guards refused to answer, instead roughly kicking my feet out from under me, and pulling me along faster though winding corridors.

Suddenly, a piercing wail ripped into my ears, followed by a flash of green, and the heat of an explosion. The guards and I were thrown by the force of the blast, debris raining down on us. I instinctively covered my head with my arms, waiting for the assault to end, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

A quiet lull descended over the area, and I scrambled through the mess of broken cinderblocks and metal, trying to pull myself to my feet. Dust filled my lungs and I coughed, pain flaring in my side. With a groan, I clamped a hand over the area, almost recoiling as I felt something wet and warm beneath my fingertips. Red and green blood blossomed over my white shirt. I flinched, stifling a scream.

"Don't move!"

I turned, seeing one of the guards pulling himself from the mess, his white suit covered in dust and specks of blood. Swallowing my pain, I staggered to my feet, only to slip on a loose bit of tile, and fall to the glass covered floor. In seconds, the guard was grabbing my arms, dragging me through the fallen debris, his face wild. I screamed, flailing against his hold, trying to find my ghost powers. But they weren't responding. They weren't listening to me.

"When I find my gun, I'm going to shoot you, brat." The man said, sneering at me. "I'm going to shoot you in the head, and then all of this damn mess will be over."

"Let go!" I cried, kicking out with my legs, making it as hard for him as I could.

"I'm not going to let go. I'm not going to let go until-"

Another flash of green light ran across my vision, and I heard the guard cry out, before his body slumped to the floor, his grip on my arms going lax. I spun around, my stomach churning when I saw that his chest was nothing more than a smoking crater.

I backpedalled away from the body, a whimper tearing from my throat as a shadowy figure appeared behind it, hands glowing an unnatural bright green...the color of my eyes, and the explosions. The color of ectoplasm...

It was a ghost.

The specter studied me for a moment, before it began to approach, thick boots crunching over glass and stone.

"Get away from me!" I shouted, my hand reaching for a chunk of broken cinderblock. I hefted it in my palm, the weight feeling reassuring. I had to defend myself. Whatever this thing was, I knew that it had destroyed the compound and killed all those people... and I knew that I couldn't hold it off forever.

But I had to try.

The ghost stopped, staring at me with its glowing green eyes, tilting its head curiously. I found myself looking back, my body tensed, ready for an attack that never came. However, the more I stared, the more familiar its face became, and my gut clenched.

"Jake?" The specter called.

The stone fell from my hand.

"Dad?" I whimpered, my own voice suddenly gone.

And the ghost nodded, a smile forming on his lips.

I couldn't believe it. His hair was stark white, and his eyes an unnatural green. He was dressed in white and black, his clothing singed in places, and splattered with blood. But I didn't care. It was him. He'd come for me...he hadn't forgotten me.

He'd come to rescue me.

"Dad!" I cried, pushing myself to my feet. I found myself wrapped in my father's arms, his hands grasping at my shirt, his face buried in my shoulder.

"Jake. It's really you." He whimpered, sobs suddenly tearing through his body. "I thought I wouldn't find you. I was afraid they'd taken you away."

"I'm here, Dad." I said, tears spilling down my own cheeks. "I can't believe...I thought..."

"We can talk later." My father said, gently pushing me away. "We have to get out of here before-"

He yelped as something green hit him head-on, knocking him to the floor. I shouted and tried to run to his aid, but strong arms wrenched me back, and roughly forced my wrists into handcuffs. I kicked and flailed, until I felt something jab into my side, and a shock tore through my body. I slumped in my captor's hold, my legs suddenly useless.

"This was a gutsy move, even for you, _Phantom_." A voice spat. I tensed. I knew that voice...I could hear it yelling at me, pushing me through my tests even as my body faltered. I could hear it, on the first day I came to the compound, telling me I worthless. His face often filled my nightmares...

Mr. V.

Struggling to lift my head, I saw him, hefting a huge weapon over his shoulder, his mouth curled into a vicious smirk. He was joined by a dozen others, all dressed in full battle gear. Then...my gaze turned to my father, hunched up on the debris-ridden floor, trapped by a glowing net that constricted his body. His eyes were blazing, and he shrieked as the net sparked with static. I knew it was hurting him, but there was nothing I could do. My limbs were jelly...and I wasn't as powerful as he was. I couldn't single-handedly break into a GIW facility. Hell, I couldn't even find my ghost half.

I wasn't strong enough to help him.

"Dad!" I shouted, only to have a GIW agent strike me in the back of the head with the butt of his gun.

"I can't believe that Tearle's plan actually worked." Mr. V laughed, taking a few steps closer to my dad's prone form. "She said your pup would draw you back to us, and look. It did. So _predictable._"

My father screamed as Mr. V pressed his boot into his ribs, pushing down down, threatening to snap them in two.

"Sure, you tore down half the facility in the process, but we can rebuild. We can do anything now that we've got three hyrbids."

"Y-you have me." Daniel coughed, breath coming in ragged gasps. "Let Jake go."

Mr. V only laughed.

"Why should we, Mr. Phantom?" He said, releasing the pressure. "He might not be like you, but he has his uses."

At that, my father screamed, his legs bucking and kicking, fingers grasping at the rope's strands. Mr. V only laughed at him, snapping his fingers at his men.

"Make sure to put a muzzle on him the moment he's free. We won't be surprised by his secret weapon next time, will we?"

* * *

**Spy Guy: Hallo. I once was the queen of DP angst ****on this site, donchaknow? This is kind of sadistic, even for me. WELP. Can't help it now. The next chapter is another interruption, and if you guess who it focuses on, you get a cookie. The cookie may or may not be laced with poison, but you will get one. AND YOU WILL LIKE IT. **


End file.
